You are what I love
And crave for so badly that nothing's ever enough.
Somehow creeping to my head,
that it's for the best of me.
Complicated, it gets.
My choices are weakening, I'm not that person anymore.
Delusional, I'm going.
For that thing speaks louder than my sounds of pain.
A joy that never lets me rise,
I'm somehow in the middle.
Of what's right and wrong,
Letting nothing else matter but you.
It's so suffocating.
But I just can't overpower what I let inside of me.
Oh you are what I love yes,
even though I know it's not healthy...
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Comments about this poem (Healthy by Life Poem )
(16 August 1920 – 9 March 1994)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
(27 October 1914 – 9 November 1953)
(1886 - 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(28 November 1757 – 12 August 1827)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(30 December 1865 – 18 January 1936)
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