Feeling a feeling.
Only feeling.
This makes you wonder, what is a feeling.
Of your emotion, it takes flight.
We try for love with all optismisable might.
Yet, we hate so strongly with ease,
And love is seen as dirt and sleaze,
This does destroy our minds.
Our inside cogs, our cranks that grinds.
Hate is love. Love is a lie.
Lies, as sharp, do pain us to die.
So we sit, alone, mellowed with sorrow.
As we understand, that there is no tomorrow.
Only ourselves and our 'feelings',
And they float, my soul reeling.
In shreds.
Dead.
Thank You


) You are totally right about the word 'portrayed' is wrong, maybe I should've replaced it for 'seen'