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Whisper in the Night
A word so greatly mispronounced.
Never meant when said,
Except for only one,
Of which causes madness
Blooming yet killing,
A murderess in the sun.
The four letters are opaque,
Translucent lies within it’s form,
Forming cracked trust at twilight.
Blood shed when broken apart,
Nobody looks at the floor.
All look at the red, a heart broken today.
Gone in the mist, born in the wind.
A soul gone because of
Your lies, tainted a life.
Forevermore, gone tonight.
Love twisted on the fool’s tongue.
Meant to be painted, not true.
Your lies float in water,
Never sinking to the ground.
Too many to believe.
The dangers of love evaporate,
The sun bakes a treat of truth
Nonexistent truth, however here.
Danger, danger, danger,
‘tis a whisper in the night.
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(of which I mean loss of lovers) I wrote this poem to describe my hatred of love. I don't believe it exists anymore, and yes it is sad that I'm saying this at such a young age, but it's true. This poem is the dramatic result of my feelings.