Deep down is a conscience buried in layers of dust and rust
People try to get it to reboot
But of others it has practiced to not trust
I keep imagining images, delusional feelings take over the organ
Yet what they may call a crush, I named lust
You think you know what I feel?
Well sit down and listen to what is real
Lust is not want nor need
Not growing or planting a seed
It is a spark of hope and imagination that you are wanted
That you can give someone their deepest desires
Lust is being called a liar
Lust is false identification
A mishap on our creation
An excuse to back out
Lust is to regret as scream is to shout
YOU ARE READING
At Its Finest ✔️
PoetryThis is an original series of poems written in 2014 but later taken down. As of 2017 I have updated, added pictures, and republished them. These poems have underlying, if not obvious, themes of depression, self-harm, suicide, and heart break.
