Let your tongue spit fire toward my scarred heart,
Speak ironic words of my broken soul,
Yet you are responsible for more than half the pieces,
Speak of how I am so sad,
Yet you are the cause of all my emotion,
How can you tear me apart, and then tell me that I'm shattered,
To that I want to laugh at the apparent hipocracy,
But I cry instead with no eye to see,
Alone where I will be at ease,
But life I wish there not to be
YOU ARE READING
Poetic Journal ;'))
PoetryJust a random collection of words I call poetry. It's just a place for my current emotions to be documented as art.
