I'm not more than,
a coquette.
But I fall in love sometimes.
I'm not more than,
drizzle,
In the vast sea of cry.
I'm not more than,
a sozzled thought
sobering up by dawn.
I'm as meaningless,
as the words I write
and the emotions that come along.
I'm only a vain prayer.
Not more than, a high.
I'm dancing along the strings
to the melody of goodbye.
I'm nothing more,
than nothingness
of this abyss, I call life.
I'm the pale skin,
pressed against
your judgmental knife.
I'm not more than,
a poet.
Every word I write is a lie.
I'm not more than,
drizzle
in the vast sea of cry.