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Listen, Now I could tell you That, I actually believe you The world is indeed flat Banks start wars And we actually landed on the moon But, Then again, I Only lust for the fragile and jaded kind of truths A particular flavor of strange fruit Bitter to the lips Yet, sweet on the tongue Gowned in emerald green lies Draping graciously over the eyes Imprinting my soul Like the fullest Moon's lips Kissing the darkest of midnight skies
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
Psychological *****
Listen, Now I could tell you That, I actually believe you The world is indeed flat Banks start wars And we actually landed on the moon But, Then again, I Only lust for the fragile and jaded kind of truths A particular flavor of strange fruit Bitter to the lips Yet, sweet on the tongue Gowned in emerald green lies Draping graciously over the eyes Imprinting my soul Like the fullest Moon's lips Kissing the darkest of midnight skies
Our infidelity with the truth, is often accompanied by our love affair with the lie. (GypsyPoet)
gypsy-poet
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Jul 25, 2016
Jul 25, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
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