A melancholy melody you might hear from this story.
That it is a parody of history is the irony of my story.
Love shows. My heart blows.
Lord knows how this goes.
It is apparent that my feelings are transparent.
She walks past me, oblivious to my lament.
My pride I swallow, my sorrow I hide.
No guide, then, in who will I confide?
Only the Lord knows my grief, I reveal my thoughts through this pen.
Perhaps this pain will be brief, before history repeats itself yet again.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment