I love you,
I'm incomplete without you,
I can die for you,
et cetera
Are but illusions

Lies,
Deceit,
Fake

We play and on then
Each and every now, and then

Digging ditches for innocents
Having robbed them, of their sense
We hold them firm all along
And leave them sif they strong

In the middle of road
they wander, wonder and ponder
eddying in the thoughts like the chair
at the barber shop

They become weak, and strong
and weak, and strong and weak
for the repeated time

They despise life,
their own existence
and wish it over

Doesn't make...

© Writeous Sage