I lie, you know.
You won, I lost.
I stay, you go.
But at what cost?
I call, no ring.
Hear you, not you
To me, you sing.
Each word less true.
Try not to cry.
You said to me
It's a good bye,
Not what I see
Inks blot my view
No fake joy here.
You left this skew.
Don’t shed a tear.
You saw me pour,
For me and I.
I left you poor
And your cup dry.
Sad it's too late.
Not much to say
But damn this fate.
We walk away.
But from this ex,
Pity new one
He will be next
When you are done.
About the Creator
Tales from a Madman
.. the figure in question had out-Heroded Herod, and gone beyond the bounds of even the Prince's indefinite decorum.
The Masque of the Red Death
Edgar Allan Poe
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