It took you looking at me
With those eyes of desire,
For me to really see
All my dark thoughts that conspire.
I walked to the mirror, taking a glance
And just couldn't see
Myself in a successful romance.
Because I couldn't see any good in me.
You're naive
And I feel sorry for you,
I didn't mean to deceive
But your opinion of me isn't true.
I'm neither good, nor pure
Or happy, or bright.
And no one should have to endure
Saying it's alright.
Because it's not.
You deserve more.
And this is all I've got
So I can't accept your amour.
I want to have you
But it's not my right.
With what I've been through
I'll just dim your light.
YOU ARE READING
Lachrymose
PoetryLachrymose /ˈlakrɪməʊs,ˈlakrɪməʊz/ adjective tearful or given to weeping. A collection of amateur prose and poetry illustrating the inner turmoil. Mainly a dumping ground for loose thoughts and ideas to be interpreted in whatever manner.
