I don't think that love is real,
'cause all I see is hate and will,
trying to get what it wants,
trying hard to yell and run off.
I never thought I'd find you pretty,
but just look how I ended- pity.
Listenin' to stupid music,
making no moves, because I couldn't.
What a pity- the world says-
You don't have a love- what a shame!
You have blinders on- I reply,
trying hard not to cry.
'Cause when I saw your pretty face,
all I thought was
what a pity, you're not mine.
YOU ARE READING
poet's not dead
Poetrypoetry written by an anarchist, teenage, lonely girl obsessed with music, books and history. i try to add life into words, mix body, mind and soul into a one thing. because that's what we are. humans. ENGLISH'S NOT MY FIRST LANGUAGE, SORRY!!
