I'm a lightweight word on a page so dark and lonely...
I'm a burnt up flame weighted down with words of hurt and pain...
I'm a wrecked soul pecked upon with a need to slander, to betray, to trust...
I'm a coloured hope when the ties and lies match up to fulfill selfish desires...
I'm a withered hope wrapped around your fingers, played around your tunes, cursed upon your lips...
I'm a vision shattered to the likes and dislikes of a mistmatched match to get the story straight, to be a perfect memory...
I'm a martyred soldier splashed on your page with an urge to be remembered, to be your own, to be everything else and not me...
I'm a girl with words and hopes of past, present and future pictured in colourless desires of unknown versions, of broken hearts and foolish banters but all I am left to be seen is a destined ruin with no voice, no say, no chapters of personal stories but a tool used to describe series of muffled insane desires...
My stories were meant to be dust,
My stories were meant to be my own,
My stories were meant to be formed from my own lips,
My stories were meant to be a safeguard for my own preview,
My stories are my own and they are meant to be sheltered and cared and nurtured and not butchered to be a source of ultimate hope or joy to another...
I might be strong,
I might be naive,
I might be weak,
I might be a crumpled piece of paper stored in a dusty corner, but, I am not meant to be torn apart piece by piece for anyone's happily ever after!
YOU ARE READING
Jaded Reality
PoetrySome Realities are hidden safely in cages far away from the guilt of being judged at, from being gawked at, to form a veil to hide beneath in order to look as humanly happy as possible. To hoard down dark secrets, ultimately sulking in a murk so da...
