Your faceless head amongst the crowd,
Bring great significance to a fool on clouds.
Your blurring mind of scepticness,
Bring about nothing but a blank piece of emptiness.
Your equilibrium weight of touch,
Sends nothing going down the lashing brush.
You seem to think as if you knew it all,
But in actual fact you're not a know it all.
You're just too good to be true.
Because you're no good at all.
YOU ARE READING
The Living Broken (Poetry)
PoesíaPoems written by a living soul with a broken heart.
