My Dear Woman
The hunger within
She spoiled herself with fame and insecurity
But when its stripped its empty.
No its not promiscuity.
Its a lackthereof.
The list goes on
For men of meantime shelters
For boys of tussled sheets and misdemeanor
Even when she’s not looking, it comes to her
Guilt is her misfire. Regret’s her token
Being sought after a crooked star
She has not become amassed
A beautiful broken thing with a destructive nature
Dear Woman, nobody’s ever in favor.
The new things she chased..
Kept her running back home with another broken piece
It will never fit. It Never heals
She is out of control. Never had a heart of steel.
She is lost but still wandering.
She looks for her when she has always been herself all along.
Now she wakes up gazing.
She have grasp acceptance, fear and life
Then she will go on... and start again.
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