Promise a thing
Don’t be so masquerading kind
to me
it makes you less beautiful
woman,
forged in the depths
in the land of fire
of past and trauma
that lives
of pressing out
Thought Industry
swimming in
a red tainted liquid
of iron
What tears
didn’t the young men cry
when the put aside the blade
after the battle.
What kind of strong boy
wouldn’t I like
to see cry?
Mhm.
Despite
based on your words
I suspect you have a good heart
I wish
I wasn’t that easily put apart
by a good story teller
Like a groupie
I fell in love with
your eyes
But mhm
I am skeptic
could you surprise
me
with love
so I can’t raise my words?
John D.Dexter 