Life's play.

Poems written by a lover are nice,
what happens when every verse is a lie?
I can't deny you're nice to me
but I'm naive for believing in you.

Your oath is dishonest,
the ink stained the penultimate sentence,
I've been living in a farce where you're the main character

... Of my life.

How many truths can you bear?
A lie will save you?
If you eat a bread with syrup,
it'll taste bitter.

The life is a play by Molière,
just laugh when you're sad and helpless
as the cub you used to take care
sharpens his claws to cut you into pieces

and make you happy.


I'm still mad 'cause there's people who keep making stories about me, if they don't like me why they don't tell it in my face instead of smiling me like stupid??