I am a fool of not seeing those pain in your eyes
It shows the hurtful past, the numb feeling of today
Looking back, I couldn't do something for my surmise
All along we knew, but we let ourselves go astray
You're my beautiful kind of deranged
I held back, for I could not bear
That our love was not perfect but goes estranged
For I am a fool who dares not to shed a single tear.
YOU ARE READING
Syllogés
PoetrySyllogés, a Greek word for collection. This is a collection of thoughts and the author's spur-of-the-moment.
