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A Poem, Is This Really?

I don't even understand what I'm writing....................

2

Your taste with delectables are questionable.

You like how the aftertaste reminds you of what you had just devoured, it keeps the evil in you sane.

Without it, you are barbaric with inhumane urges you could hardly cover.

Isn't this what you have wanted, or you longed for more.

Something you have been deprived of since then.

Was too good to be true, the lingering scent and sensation, a facade you mastered that even you do not know.

The longing for the green grass and satin sheets, heavens you prayed.

Somewhere in between being and what has been, you're neither.

Because you knew well that it was her, where you belong to, and it was her that tamed you.

Your hope was your opium. Like an infant starving, you were desperate for better days. Clinging like a fool that is only going to lead on an eventual fall.

Nothing is everything, and vise versa.

© 2020 Psychely Keit Reyes

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