Heliophilia heals the hated
hopeless
homeless
and berated
beds in bodies
bored of buying
all the trying truths
they keep trying
to tell us
help us
when we know they fell us
falling through
to hell with us
bells and butterflies
tired of lies
we roll our eyes and apathise
ignore the prize
look to the skies
and our demise
destroy the dubious
dedications and imitations
real art retorts and bothers sorts
silly fellow
through the window
falls the willow down.
YOU ARE READING
The Egoism Dilemma
PoetryThere's only so much one can take before one snaps and writes shitty poetry and almost-but-really-not deep thoughts. Xx
