
You can bring out the most elegant poetry,
build the cosmos in verse,
and still be the worst being in this universe.
Your broken ballads of sorrow,
woe is me,
all so that you can be showered with the love you can never express properly.
You preach the words you cannot take for yourself,
you blame the devil for the temptation you fell for,
and you're now the last man standing.
And maybe that was the goal,
the words being the catalyst for the inaction
because you are afraid, alone, and abandoned.
You let those broken ballads define you and you wonder
why you are all alone.
About the Creator
Angel Adagio
A story worth telling 🖤
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