Every time I feel as if I've found happiness
I've found someone I can rely on
I come to discover that it's all a hoax
It's deceitful
An illusion if you will
How could I be so stupid ?
Nobody truly yearns for me
It's Merely lust,
Desire.
Not for me,
But for my body.
What I posses
That's all they crave
Not my love
Not my attention
I mean they do want my attention
But not the nature I want to give out
They demand my pictures
They starve for my words
and the worst part is...
I give them everything they ask.
I let them use me until i am nothing.
All I am in the end is a hoax.
A big fat fucking joke.
YOU ARE READING
The Fine Art Of Giving Up
PoetryI guess this is just me fucking around and writing whatever pops to mind. Feel free to ignore this it's mainly for my benefit 🤠
