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novera-nichole-bennettPoems
Fear, Terror, and Shame, That's all that is felt in this horrid game. A game played by people who do not wish to play, people who a message is wished to convey. I see you standing there, Thinking of her, And I want so much, To be what we were. I’m not who you want, that much is known. How you dream and crave, for her body to roam. Fix this and fix that, Days spent in repetition, How scared I am of this Sudden transition. You want nothing more than for me to let you go, How I hide and wish these feelings did not show. War is where my days are spent. At battle with myself, Forever running from you final judgment.
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Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
War
Fear, Terror, and Shame, That's all that is felt in this horrid game. A game played by people who do not wish to play, people who a message is wished to convey. I see you standing there, Thinking of her, And I want so much, To be what we were. I’m not who you want, that much is known. How you dream and crave, for her body to roam. Fix this and fix that, Days spent in repetition, How scared I am of this Sudden transition. You want nothing more than for me to let you go, How I hide and wish these feelings did not show. War is where my days are spent. At battle with myself, Forever running from you final judgment.
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novera-nichole-bennett
Jun 1, 2013
Jun 1, 2013 at 10:48 PM UTC
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