treachous deciever

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  • Confusion

    treachous deciever

    Time the truth be told

    Why play this game, of destroying ones life
    Sneaking in with humbled smiles, all awhile plotting to destroy everything you see not fit, everything happy, everything bliss, everything secluded, everything not yours. why i ask is it something you miss, or is it just who you are, treacherousness, so why be mad at me, i wasn't the one who did it to you, but you take it out on me, marry me, marry me, she says carry me, carry me , he says all because of whoevers focus, determination and drive, you can do the same thing all you have to do is try, by I know you say for what, so what, i don't care, or how dare, can you feel that air. I warn you beware! when one get enough comes the cynical stare, the scalping of hair, the i don't care, isn't that what you wanted, you will get what you want regardless of what it is you have to do. i want to be just like you. stole my life, stole my husband/wife, stole my kid, stole my life, know you want to repair all for the sake of praise, want to play gods role, in these last days, I kind of happy you came along soort of showed me something thrice, why would i want her back she's not my she's your wife, you take care of her/him, let her/him give you praise, cause if you were my friend you would have killed the thought in the first place, as for that girl/guy you sent, i know what you were doing, i told you no and you both insisted, i guess your mistake equal my ruin.If you would just have listen in the first place. i tell you my heart is pure. but you insisted on releasing a beast that wallows in manuer. Treachous Deciever. you think your works all for the right, but when its all said and done you end up just the like


    how can you say that you this and that when you have done all that, i know your tired that is why they keep you down, under their foot, cause your just like them.
    this is not a poem just feeling on key a description of you maybe a desription of me.

    you pick then ask yours are you sure?

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    Poetry is not a turning loose of emotion, but an escape from emotion.

    T. S. Eliot (1888-1965) American-English poet and playwright.

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