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??