Everybody tells me to move on
They don't know what I'm missing
To them it's all gold coated
Whatever happened is bogus
We bred resentments
Made beds we wouldn't sleep on
Fame and fortune is the drive
If not wilfulness
The heart wanted love
I guess the chef was misguided
The broth was overcooked
It's easy to be cynical
Even easier to capitalize on it
And make people believe you
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Author:
Signif (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 26th, 2025 22:10
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 8
- Users favorite of this poem: Demar Desu
Offline)
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