He is a daring Leo,
Riding a hunchback ride toward cancer,
Duh, it's me,
But he didn't exactly arrived after I got the message,
Even thou the road was clear of solid mess,
Of beings that may intersect his journey to love.
Everybody mentioned about the source informing them that we were compatible,
And there was an aching urge to smile at the silliest myth,
Because of all dreams we wanted to be true, we both wanted the idea of love,
Sure enough I was infected with a folklore of hope for a bit,
He never showed up to unite our pain and passion.
YOU ARE READING
The Book of Lies
PoetryAn emotional investment toward gaining clarity from the chapters of lies, but it is knitted to explain the strict intake from an un-integrity blab that rolls off the devil's tongue.
