Everybody thinks I’m so different.
They don’t see the truth,
Hidden between my eyes.
All my sorrows turned,
Into bruised up pieces.
Disintegrate them before I die.
April's Fools, how bout you?
You don’t think I see the lies running through,
Your sweet capillaries?
They remind me of well-picked cherries.
Everybody thinks I’m so different,
But like those cherries;
We’re all basically the same.
YOU ARE READING
3M0ticons.
Poesía“I don't want to be at the mercy of my emotions. I want to use them, to enjoy them, and to dominate them.” ― Oscar Wilde
