The heart grows fond,
For those whom aren't fond of me,
I want whats unexpected,
I want what I cannot physically or emotionally have,
But I still strive for that hurt,
I still strive for that pain,
I know what shall be in the end,
left alone as crimson without a friend,
Curl up in the corner,
where shadows lurk,
Smile in the dark,
give a crimson smirk,
Love decieves and so do I,
Thought to love, when all shall die,
False this is for verification I did not give,
you think me so loving, perhaps romantic,
I'm not... I'm just the lie of a so called prince charming...
Reality sets in I remeber who I truly am,
I purge the thoughts so violently from my mind...
I vomit at the thought of who crimson truly is...
Sick...and worthless,
is this so called Crimson Prince.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem