Martyr On Guard

Regurgitating Resembled Feelings
That Have Anything To Do With Love.
From John Hughes Style First Loves To
Romeo And Juliet Type Suicides.

I Think It All Turns, Spans Out Into A
Chain Of Events That Eventually Will Happen.
Unbearable Thoughts Of Not Being With Eachother,
Confused Resentment Of The Choices I’ve Made,

Then Animosity. What Am I To Expect Of This
Pleasuring Flutter That Comes From The
Pits Of My Stomache That Is So Easily Named
‘Love’? An Insignifigant Amount Of Happinness

That Gyrates My Ripe Loving Heart Into An
Assassin, A Muderer, A Massacist Of Cupids.
Im Coming To Terms With These Feelings.
I Now Cannot Allow Anything To Disturb What

Little Remains I Have Of This Decaying Heart.
From All The Lies And Deceite This Heart Has
Been Reduced To Only A Mere Pebble. I’m A
Martyr Hate Is My Belief, Now On Gaurd For

Any Harlot With A Plan To Infiltrate And
Destroy What Little I Have Left. Words
Exchanged Were Translations Of Lies.
The Culteral Approval A Person Needed

Was Just Lack Of Outside Source To Blame
For The Misery One Felt.
I Appreciate The False. Thanks

More Shayari by Jamie Simon
    04 Sep 2008 No Comment

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