Swimming in the neverending lake of doubt,
I try to reminisce all the feelings deep inside.
In this little web of words, I think no rhymes.
No measures, just emotions wanting to cry.
Life is a beautiful paradox at your side,
I see everything foolish people have set aside.
Why, oh, why do you try to be so nice?
I'm no angel, I'm just a parasite in your paradise.
Why do I even strive to be so perfect?
For you? No. It's for the people who see
That not all things are just meant to be.
I've woven so many worthless words
trying to prove this false.
I cry when angels deserve to die, I do.
But you, my love, are no angel undeserving of anything.
You cloud my mind with smiles, yes, and it's fine.
Please wake me up when the ashes of fakes settles.
And I
Will try
To love you
Again.
YOU ARE READING
Poetry Of A Count
PoetryThis book is not suitable for audiences with zero percent sense of imagination and a mental age of two and below. I'm not really a great poet, just a guy who knows how to hold the pen and write the twenty six letters of the alphabet. But I like thin...
