My merry, amusing sentences, bring you emotional Gold.
These very abusing sentences, that won't release their hold.
I feel like I am choking, on a thin laced noose.
Painting over remnants, just to give you a boost.
Why these white lies come, I'll never understand.
Until I do, I don't know if I want to hold your hand...
This sub-conscious feeling is telling me I'm insane,
Forget about the healing when I'm loosing it all again.
These abstract thoughts or memories, these feelings I push aside.
Are slowly rising up, with nowhere to reside.
Am I missing begotten memories? Or simply regret the past?
Leaving me, helplessly, feeling, the days are moving too fast.
Are these white lies choices or black mail from deep within?
Am I happy? or scared? Without you, where do I begin?
I can't seem to see endings to dawning of new days,
with brightly colored mornings, melted in Sun's rays.
I know, when I paint truth white and make it so their not,
Leave the Lie unburdened, so your satisfied with what is got.
I'm sick of this personal confusion and all differences between.
This complex painted delusion and my feelings so unseen.
An undressed withered tourniquet, Hide where white lies come.
Giving false sense of nurture, bringing happiness to some.
I'm scared of being lonely, I'm scared of myself,
but accepting this nature is an addiction in itself.
So until the voice stops whispering, until the deed is done.
I'll lay upon this bed and allow White Lies to come...
This is version of my poem I re-read it to make sure it flows though I'm not too sure if I ruined it.
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