I'm not what you partake me as,
The innocent little lie embroidered in your mind,
The one that stains your thoughts,
The one that is constantly killing you inside.
Lie to yourself all you like,
Tell yourself everything is fine,
But you know it's all an illusion,
Clouding the cold truth behind my eyes.
This isn't working out,
I can see it written across your face,
Your heart is broken, bleeding, spilled on the floor,
Yet still beating, Praying, Hoping that im wrong.














Comments
Wow, powerful! I like it a lot. Hmm... What would I call this? *thinks* I think "Little Lie". Those words are in the poem's text, and the lie is actually... well, pretty big, so there's some nice irony to chew on there. But that's just my thoughts.
and thank you. ^__^
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THE TRUTH IS NEVER PURE AND RARELY SIMPLE
thanks bunches ^__^
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THE TRUTH IS NEVER PURE AND RARELY SIMPLE
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