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Oct 31 · 19
Love hurts.
Zyola Oct 31
If this pain doesn't lead me to write then I will never write a sad poem( SING A SAD SONG)

I feel a heavy hand drugging my pulse down
Now my legs are doing the hearts work so I keep moving
At this pace I will never make it to happy ever after
And seems the sun hates me too it's scorching my throat
My words are dry and burnt, what you are hearing (reading) now, is ashes
Ashes of what was a huge fire in cupids presences
Ashes of what was supposed to be a love story told with smiles and laughter.

I fell in love with a con
Her maze was a work or art
Her artistry was immpecable
Her crooked strokes tainted my back.
She had her home my heart
Well vested, she used my blood to paint
All her works had me in a bottom right corner
Her signature Incase you see her works
Cause apparently I am a work of art.

You know how your heart tends to skip a beat,
Those followed her rhythmic flow
The cadence in her wrap
Made me dance to her words in ties
Let alone sing along like I wrote the notes
Now am a torn tailor sawing a black suit.

Once upon a time, there was a side *****,
Said bro was her past but the present never agreed to it
Like valuable trash he was ever present
Catering to all the Mrs' needs
In a time before now even gave the Mrs' misses
And there I was, standing like an English guard
The light flashing before my eyes was not visible.

I was the present properly wrapped
But in a weeks past he was hitting it
Yet I was the only one getting some
I was the best present in wraps
In her time every night am present in her DM's
In that time she's at his crib servicing the bed
And am there present in wraps
I don't know about her god
Cause while I was preserving for him
Bro was getting from him
It felt like I was on a seesaw, alone.

So yeah, once upon a time I was her, side *****
Except my artistry couldn't hold a candle to hers
For she was a living light, right?
My few errors almost ripped off the roofing
My little error almost ended us
But trust me there is no use of light
Without darkness, I was walking in it
So that I can see light and me (neo)
Appreciate my sight and light
In the chase for perfection I did my bidding
Got the tender but the project was never a success
Cause I was the side *****.

So who really was the main man?
I who knew about a present ***** as past
Or he who never knew about a past ***** present
I don't know, all I know is we were both present
And there was a side ***** past or present
I am not a psychic, past was present the future is unclear

She never knew truth,
Except when she says, everything will be alright
Cause I had presents for that truth in my mind
If this pain doesn't lead me to light I will never get home
Eccentric.
Oct 19 · 22
Ripped jeans
Zyola Oct 19
I see flaws ahead of your utterance
Words speak but actions are louder
Your despicable tees and torn jeans are base

Cool is not stupid
Love does not belong to the cupid
Nor relationships to his arrows
Sep 13 · 30
X
Zyola Sep 13
X
You came to me pretending
To love what I look like
You left me looking blue
For black like I was not colored enough
You could turn me into any color
But you went for black
So long X I will never
Refer to my message as tweet
Sep 9 · 65
But whose counting
Zyola Sep 9
I hate it when you do this to me,
Like when you cheat and blame me
Come home late or not at all
Get wasted just to be carried home
Turn the conversation against me
When I call you out
Say " your kid did this and that"
When they fall short
And "my kid" when they behave right
You do almost everything wrong
And you do it so calmly
But whose counting
Sep 9 · 83
Lies
Zyola Sep 9
I love you lies,
It lies in am here if you need a shoulder
If you need anything call
Then the phone goes off

I loathe you doesn't lie
Weather it's day or night,
It doesn't know the bed
Also hate has strength as a word

Yet when we get down
Everyone lies
Sep 5 · 38
So they thought
Zyola Sep 5
Why would you, why wouldn't you?
If you knew me, you wouldn't ask that.
Sep 5 · 48
Tick talks
Zyola Sep 5
Time in the past has no recollection,
It knows not about the future
But the future has a memory of the past
Words live in them both

— The End —