Truths told through lying lips, begging me to come to grips with the reality unfolding in my world of make-believe. Expired devotions of kept emotions given due dates and forming planned escapes. Empty promises for future plans that hold no water in their hands, alone is not so bad. If it came to be that I had an opportunity to be ironclad would my heart survive the damage from your retribution, my mind my own institution. The bars on this prison cannot hold my insanity or protect my soul from calamity. Melancholy catastrophe, punctuated with misery producing misleading dreams of fantasy that never really come to be. Realization of the Grand finale, and in avoidance of regret, exit, stage left…
No comments:
Post a Comment