Un-like your burning eyes
And waning smile
And those cold hands
That show no mercy
And your heavy air
As the winds blows
Bearing down on
My bruises
And how you laugh
When I'm broken
And fix my patches
For a show
If your truth
Was zenith gold
Then all my ashes
Are your throne.
I don't think
I can believe you
I don't feel
Any good from you.
I see those colors
In your eyes
Death in your smiles
And everything just makes sense
Oh, I thought
We were strangers and warriors
Fighting for the truth
That we might've known
If you were true
To the end
And let the demon
Show his face
But you were
Never saved then
And I should have known it
In your tears.
YOU ARE READING
Tell Me Something
Poetry~where I tell you many things~ It would be a lie if I say I don't feel many things. I feel alot. But I also do not feel anything most times. If I change my skin and become someone else, will you still understand me? Why don't I tell what I think? _ ...
