Slowly fortifying the futility of my life
As he holds me captive
Like my throat
To his knife
Does he know my confusion?
Like he pretends he doesn't get it
But he pulls me in
Against his illusion
At the point of a triangle
But it's more like a line
With three dots
And I'm in the middle, stuck and tangled
Songs about the blues
But I feel more green
Sick to my stomach
Ignoring all his clues
On an endless carnival ride
But I've never liked to spin
So he holds me still
But I let go and give into my pride
Hating him is hard
When he pulls the hearts card
Stupid game we play
But I'm at his beck and call in fake dismay
So I sit in laughter and anxiety
Slowly fortifying the futility of my life.
YOU ARE READING
тнєѕє нαη∂ѕ *ρσєтяу ву вєℓℓє*
PoetryPoetry about anything and everything. I'll pour my little heart out. Please remember that poetry is interpreted differently by everyone and that it only really has to make sense to the author. I would love comments and feedback! Please do not plagia...
