A.W. Books & Poetry

Write me a song

I can’t bear to hear you on

I know this is wrong

But my heart is not right.

Flamboyant, tear-soaked lies

In crumpled tissues on a bedroom floor

I’m not one for your lore

But you know they all believe it

I used to too.

Black ink has thickened the air

Painting the pain of my mind in the tear

In the wall,

Bet they can’t imagine what is reads

And who is caught with the brush and well?

Only me.

Standing here against

Their gullible creed,

Your deplorable deed,

And my incessant need.

Oh, how it bleeds.