No, this isn't a depressing poem, and it doesn't fit the theme of the rest of the poems in this poetry book, but I really don't want to make a new poetry book just for less depressing poetry, so I'm not going to.
Smudging the Line
Cold hands holding one another's calm heat.
Lips whispering words, tasting oh so sweet.
Hearts beating faster, making them feel weak.
A feeling that no words could ever speak.
Lips whispering words, tasting oh so sweet.
Talk of things that defy reality.
A feeling that no words could ever speak.
Smudging the line, they don't know what to think.
Talk of things that defy reality.
What is real and what is just a dream?
Smudging the line, they don't know what to think.
Obviously, all is not what it seems.
What is real and what is just a dream?
They can't seem to see the line inbetween.
Obviously, all is not what it seems.
Reality is as good as their dreams.
They can't seem to see the line inbetween.
The once fine line is smudged, it can't be seen.
Reality is as good as their dreams.
The line is smudged, reality's a dream.
YOU ARE READING
Call Me Suicidal (My Inner Thoughts)
PoetryI have issues, and I'm not afraid to admit it. This is my attempt at poetry! *Read at your own risk* :D:
