Sometimes I wonder what made you do it...
I hope it wasn’t pride.
But if it was, I can’t judge
Because I haven’t swallowed mine.
I guess pride is gonna be the end of us after all.
Deceiving your heart with intimate lies;
Feeding comforting poison to your soul will make our hearts bind.
I'll let you win your futile game of Hard-To-Get
So you can lose my game Hard-To-Forget.
You once saw through a lie, so
Hiding my dishonesty inside your truth is the perfect place to hide.
When I met you, your heart was left to die on Mars,
I saved it to walk on it like the 'Rose' it was.
I had my fair share of being a lover;
So I'm going to be a heartache in your heart my significant 'other'.
I will reign your Queendom with infliction
And leave the idea of love as a lethal infection.
You made your love a contest
Winning it was my conquest.
I told you 'Pain is the name of the game'
You said you'll play the whole way...
Yearning for his embrace is viciously addictive
Killing and silencing the logical functioning of her reasoning
Enticing her thoughts with his melodies seems vindictive
He makes her vulnerable. He leaves her exposed; unable to defend herself or defy his harmony.
Pardon her but around him, she feels sadistic.
Through him she understands why some people are narcissistic.
He’s cursed and the blessed assurance he gives her is that he tastes his own thoughts before He spits them out, he’s cunning.
When His words feels like cheerful screams from the carnival, she must know she’s fallen victim, she’s become prey to this monstrous animal.
Dissecting her dialect from intel to intellect, he’ll leave her with a non functional, gasping diaphragm.
As part of his courtesy, he’ll leave a diatribe saying she tried...
he’ll leave her dilapidated. I guess he’s just another heartache
I saw “you” and was left breathless;
Gasping... choking... suffocating..
Desperately Searching and yearning for air,
Mesmerized by the uncanny sight
Of carved sadness on your face.
The pain in your eyes had a strong
Resemblance with the inhumane graffiti downtown,
The place where losing your soul is fashionable.
You bathed in misery, clothed with sorrow
You smelled like regret, and had the purest fake smile.
You were genuine
You were dripping
You were dripping pain
There are addictive melodies of sweet nothings in her speech, obscuring you with wit and beauty, her biggest flaw: She’s a perfect but rotten peach.
Temporary forever is her favourite hello, she’ll woe your heart’s sweet tooth like too much consumption of cotton candy and trounce your centre with mystic confusion. She’s a devil with a halo.
She’ll fatigue your brain with false enticement while in reality; she’s numbing your emotional desire, leaving you in a space for lost souls just for her enjoyment.
Her heart is jar filled with stolen joy, taken from the honest with deceit like dark magic from Troy. Her word is poison, killing you from within; silencing your will, suppressing your spirit and convince you that you’re worth the pain; that dying a little inside won’t be in vain.
She’s a ramp infused storm… that’s Why People Like Her Shall Never Again Speak.
There are good people
And there are vile people
Then there’s YOU
The worst kind of the two.
This little light of mine cannot shine
It’s been shun
This little light of mine is like gum
Banished from the mouth
This little light of mine is out
And dried up
This little light I call hope
Is killing me
Despite all the signs
That this little light
Will be the end of me,