A Cliche of the Ill-Fated
Six straight bottle of beers
Pick yourself up, walk in the clear
My last text was a revelation
Your response was a mere reaction
Of what comes for us tomorrow.
You built a barrier of cashmeres
A deafening silence calling for tears
But a smirk is all I can give
I don’t breathe agony. It’s not how I live
Truth sets me free, the cliché disabled you from me
You are now blinded by my reality
It’s still me, the weird girl you once fancy
I can only plead in silence
My words to bend the stereotype of my decadence
But this won’t keep me still, I need to pay the bill.
Our short memories will be my reference
A proof of being felt above the city of iridescence
Thousand miles apart
All I have is a pen and paper to deliver my heart
To a definite, saddening, heartbreaking end
Cheers!
This expires the vague collage of our happy trend.
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