Sometimes I wish I was attractive
Others think it’s happy little accidents
Most of them have no accountability
Their actions come from no loyalty
Leave me in the dust for more of your cruelty
And blind the others with your fake imagery
Imagining is not reality
We’re just victims to your following
If you had the choice, would you take it?
Or leave it at dawn, for others to believe it.

I walked down the poets boulevard
I heard nothing but sad  songs
Words unable to come along
Empty words with tons of ink
To gather their thoughts, and what to think
I step over to see a man in a window
He’s about to end it with a blow
He thinks his hand was just a show
But tell me, what is the reason
To become so low
But so loyal to tragedy
Walking up, the one looks at me
Laughing while crying, but no emotion to see
Believe me when I say, the words he wrote were clear as day
But foggy his vision was, it led him to troubled starts
As I reach my door, an intense feeling grows on me
A heart tore apart, or a new breath to start
I feel empathy, but there is no symphonies
A sympathy for nobody else ,only within themselves
It’s just a sad song
A place I cannot hide or describe
Sad poets with no words to decide
Whether it’s true or fiction