And The Answer Is

+11

Bury your head,
Bury yourself deep.
Hate the secrets you have to keep.

Love and lust,
Fake and fear.
Ask her “What’s wrong, dear?”

You hate this life, this love, this hate.
Begging them to cooperate.

Try it once..
Try it twice.
The sound of a getaway is so nice..

The secrets you hate, you never told..
The blade and pain is getting old.

This poem was written/submitted by Psuedonymous Fog.

 Email This Poem To Your Friend