False love

To whom it may concern,
The trials that love brings forth,
It’s a force to make one bow in awe inspiring faith,
To bend and bound ones will as internal battles of past and present rage on,
To touch your skin and feel the burn of anxitey decend,
Instead replaced by the bile of transgression muddling receptors wired to the heart.
Thought travling faster than a train derailed, derailed
it’s mid confession, mid concession,
Lessons of lesser men,
It’s wrong, it’s right,
Maybe this will be the night you call me yours.
Wrapped in fantasies of every hopless woman,
A man to rescue the empty void that was left,
In the wake of becoming one in five,
Shattered scouring empty halls of long forgotten pain,
Still trapt yet deeper we travel.
Derailed, derailed,
It’s mid confession, mid concession,
Lessons of lesser men,
But you joined them

Reviews

[John the Baptist]

Nothing is sadder than a hopless woman.

[wordman]

but you have to,your heart is in control