The cards are drawn,
Your vision is split.
What I’ve become of now,
Is going to make you wish you have this.
What’s the matter?
The heat is too humid for you,
The chills thats run down your spine,
Is too frigid coming from my cold shoulder.
Well who the fuck cares?
It's the endgame,
Probably for me just same.
All of this thinking and caring,
Is otherwise stressing.
I can’t it anymore,
I’m leaving; I guess you’re the one left losing...............
It's the endgame, darling;
Let this all sink in deeply.
And tell me,
When you’re ready to play.
YOU ARE READING
3M0ticons.
Poetry“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
