I loathe the feeling of desire
Making my heart believe a liar
Let my eyes be blinded by superficial facts
Staring at perfection ignoring its cracks
Trying to understand Shakespearean babble
Wasting hope in wishing wells
Trying to sense the feeling of contended emptiness
In this disappointed and cold happiness
But I will not lie under these false pretenses
Have myself fictional conversations
Because I fell for false accusations