i'm filing the same question asking, why would you have to cage us with your showman words?
not me, always soaking wet in my own blood stabbing myself with your professionalism.
but being guilty is not familiar with your personality.
i hate my heart for not hating you.
i killed my soul just to entertain you.
but i don't want to be a stranger to you.
living in your lies and me, having these fantasies is breathtaking than being just your past memory.
but i do hope you realize how bad you are for keeping schemes secret.
it's not us, it's you.
i hope you suffer, until i get the permission to call you mine.
but in the world of reality, i will die hoping.
YOU ARE READING
Desperate Nightmares, Old Habits Die: Prose and Poetry
Poetryi live in a poetic life but dying from your poisonous lies. we live in vain, so we drink until we get drunk in our own mistakes and sins. but still making out with the devils, but in the back of my mind, i'm with you - haunting me stunningly.
