３
He was so charming, but never a prince.
Sweet words he chose to mix and mince.
How could my mind have been so dense,
To let my heart rob me of common sense?
It's true, I fell for many of his smooth lines.
Love pricks like a fork with sharpened tines.
Wounds causing me to need a defender
From the one I call the great pretender.
Or am I the pretender?
Aren't we all great pretenders,
at one time or another?
YOU ARE READING
Havens Tears
Poetry【・ＣＯＭＰＬＥＴＥＤ ・】 If you look closer, you could see a lot of pain behind somebody's eyes, and notice the brokenness that is their fake smile. This poems is not for or about me, it is dedicated to helping people realize not everybody who seems happy is...
