A beautiful and lovely place
With kind and caring saints
A perfection that can't be replaced
It's all pleasure and no pain.
But the beauty has died.
And perfection isn't real.
Saints are demons inside.
And all the evil is revealed.
If your eyes were closed or blind
You'd think this was a good place.
But right now, I am free of mind
And I can see the truth of the surface.
YOU ARE READING
Poems Because I'm bored
PoetryA bunch of short poems written by me. Am I good at writing poems? Not really. Do I care? Not really. I kinda just want a fun way to express myself, y'know? Also, whenever I write 'She', I'm either referring to myself... or a girl that most of these...
