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May 2017
She'd say: You poet, you liar
You truly will end up in hell
You shall be burning in fire
Cause  poems are lies that you just tell
Using nice words and metaphors
Aiming to put me under spell

I'd say: Well, some of it came true
I am burning, but with your love
Softly tortured with your bright lights
The poems for you are merely sighs
Longing for you at sleepless nights

Thinking about you all the time
Telling the truth, nothing to sell...
You did put me under your spell!
With hazy eyes that hypnotised
Gently my mind, until I fell
                                               For you...
If poets' exaggerations are lies, the they are beautiful ones...
Written by
MU  M/Mesopotamia
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