The reality of it all is
You never loved me
You lusted after me
You wanted what you couldn't have
And tried your hardest to obtain it
When you realized you were in love you tried your hardest to abstain it
it was too late
No amount of love
Can wipe away the blood and broken glass
The stench of beer and throbbing mass
That is the tumor growing on my heart
Because it isn't really love it mimics it
Pinocchio won't be a real boy
this is the real world
Just like you can't make a real love
out of something that never was
you'll never be half the man your father was
because
at least he never told your mother
that he loved her
YOU ARE READING
Basically Poetry
Thơ caWhy base your HAPPINESS On something that is potentially TEMPORARY That is like agreeing to DROWN When you know how to SWIM
