POETRY

of course

so typical

the image of her

the flash of her

its always the painted skin

his eyes are always deceived

he never learns i guess

it will always be

her without a heart

her who is wild

he who remains a child

chooses like one

they don’t love like me

but oh well

he never learns

never stops

loving painted lies

painted ladies

i never wore a mask

and fell for yours

as you fell for hers

keep falling

without me

-melanie ann

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