Unreal he is, yet i have fallen for him
Imitation as seems fiction as it is,
A man doesn't exist i desire ache so poor
And at least he'll hurt me for one thing
Mere than the real ones,
And that's for not being true
For my pleasure thus pure
My fiction despairing.
YOU ARE READING
𝓝𝓸 𝓞𝓷𝓮 𝓛𝓲𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓷𝓼
PoetryWhat runs through your mind every 10 a.m.? all the what ifs? why? how? all those hurtful moments where we want to scream and tell the world. WHAT DID I DO TO DESERVE THIS? and you woke up with tears rolling down your eyes. BROKEN.
