It's terrifying isn't it? How the world is made of illusions, swirling in our minds over and over until they all looked believable – until we believed in them. Works of art that we always mistake as angels' masterpieces, handed down to ajar our minds – perplex them, twist them in ways we never thought we could, but the thing about illusions is that they don't stop with our minds. They go deep into our very core – incarcerating our hearts until we learn to love them in ways that we shouldn't and that is when we begin to realize that it was demons and not angels who conjured them - that we are all too late.
And just as the moment I began to fall in love with us – with you, I have come to realize that we are just one of those compelling illusions, and it was all too late.
YOU ARE READING
Paper & Ink |#Wattys2016|
Poetry"I am the black on white; the ink on paper." A collection of my nightly thoughts and daydreams. Highest rank: #5 in Poetry. Please enjoy reading and find a friend in one of my works. :)
