Bitter
The truth shall set you free,
Run, stumble and fall,
It comes for you,
None were as passionate as we.
Irresistible your call,
It comes for me, too,
But the truth is a painful illusion,
All we ever wanted,
Our mind's blinded delusion,
Turned in what we hated,
As passion becomes intrusion.
Love is wasted,
Truth is mere confusion,
Bitter once tasted.
Copyright © Trista Whaley | Year Posted 2007
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