A Little Lost, A Little Found.
Table of contents

    YOU ARE READING

    A Little Lost, A Little Found.

    Poesia

    A book of poems that probably won't make sense, are most likely written at 2 am, and might make you internally cringe, or maybe even spark your interest.

    #breathe #pain #poem #words

    Lies

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    Lies, lies, and more lies,
    
                          
    Spreading through to my frail green eyes. 
    
                          
    I ignore the blistering pain, 
    
                          
    That can only be washed away by the rain.
    
                          
    Lies, lies, and more lies. 
    
                          
    I am so sick of having to hide. 
    
                          
    My brain is hurting from the silent treatment
    
                          
    I hate yelling, I never mean it. 
    
                          
    I thought I would be fine, 
    
                          
    But that is where I drew the line.
    
                          
    I wish I could be honest to them, 
    
                          
    But then I would become  a clam. 
    
                          
    Lies, lies, and more lies,
    
                          
    Spreading through to my frail green eyes.
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