So, this is my last entry
My final goodbye's
You need a pen and paper-rolling
So, you must document our lies
Keep the pages turning
In a world that we call hate -
I hate to love
But, loved to you hate you
And I wont say a single word
We made a rash decision but,
Kept our words
So, mister...
Its a question of reality
We need an answer now to this cure
It spreads just like a disease
And I feel weakened to the knees
We just need a cure...
As I dropp down low - my palms,
They sweat into the asphalt
Theres an awkward settling sound
That keeps filling up my ears
And I made friends with the wind
They know how I feel
It's a feeling to be felt
But not heard
So, this is my last entry
My final goodbye's
You need a pen and paper-rolling
So, you must document our lies
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem