If there was a car coming towards me,
I wouldn't move,
Not an inch.
If there was a gun pointed at me,
I'd smile a bit.
Barely even flinch.
If there were insults being thrown,
I wouldn't struggle.
Not at all.
But if you broke my heart all over again,
I'd walk away.
I hate the fall.

YOU ARE READING
My Lies
PoetryThe average person tells four lies a day, one-thousand, four-hundred and sixty a year, and eighty-seven-thousand and six-hundred by the age of sixty. And the most common lie is: "I'm fine." Cᴏᴘʏʀɪɢʜᴛ © 2013/2014 - InkButterfly