Complications
I am spurning out my poetry now just for some time time till fix I Malachai theories. I wondered if anyone has ever felt this. It seme there are times in life when you just dont wan tto be loved but then others when its feels liek the lack of love will kill you. In short that is how complications arose i cant quite remember its source i suppose i was having a moment with empathy i do hope you enjoy.
Complications
The complications began when the love of a dream became something of a reality.
I couldn’t understand being ransomed to someone else’s emotions.
I couldn’t master the skills needed to conquer the art of caring.
You see my detachment from my emotions grew so strong.
That even love couldn’t rekindle some warmth of feeling
What I am trying to say is there were complications.
My hearts pitch rose a little too high and beat a little too passionately.
When those hands of yours cursed my sweet succulent skin.
Enchanted by something which could so easily vanish before my eyes,
Something that could make me worse off than before.
I am not going to try and fob you off with the old age excuse its me not you.
Because in fact its everyone, everything touched seems to transform into
Something beautiful and stunning before wilting and dying, escaping any
Beauty achieved.
All good things must come to an end eh.
All dyed things must eventually fade back to their miserable glory.
And all love spent, must be yearned after when lost.
That’s what makes it complicated.
Complications
The complications began when the love of a dream became something of a reality.
I couldn’t understand being ransomed to someone else’s emotions.
I couldn’t master the skills needed to conquer the art of caring.
That even love couldn’t rekindle some warmth of feeling
What I am trying to say is there were complications.
My hearts pitch rose a little too high and beat a little too passionately.
When those hands of yours cursed my sweet succulent skin.
Enchanted by something which could so easily vanish before my eyes,
Something that could make me worse off than before.
I am not going to try and fob you off with the old age excuse its me not you.
Because in fact its everyone, everything touched seems to transform into
Something beautiful and stunning before wilting and dying, escaping any
Beauty achieved.
All good things must come to an end eh.
All dyed things must eventually fade back to their miserable glory.
And all love spent, must be yearned after when lost.
That’s what makes it complicated.
