Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Jan 2016
Cheating is a losers game.
It buys you the most infamous of fame.
You're hands are soft, but your heart is too cold.
Lies after lies, what will become of you if all this was to be unfold?
Do you not feel any remorse; or a tiny fragment of guilt?
Just like those dozens of flowers, your charm will wilt.
Written by
Rosalind  United States of America
(United States of America)   
508
   cascandaza and GaryFairy
Please log in to view and add comments on poems