Like doves in a grave.
Like a slave.
You show no shame.
Hide away.
Run away.
Nothing to see here.
Its just a nightmare.
Realities is my fatality.
A calamity.
Calamity.
"It's the circus!
You're just another clown.
Like all of us.
A joke".
Dammit Chris.
Stop making me sell!
But why.
You're only gonna get killed.
And like doves in a grave we won't show shame.
Like clowns on a stage.
We have only imaginary grace.
Just step from the stage.
Before we show our face again.
Like clowns we show painted grace.
Like doves we have no shame.
Like saints we have our names in vain.
YOU ARE READING
The Meloncholy Diaries
PoetryThe Saints are misunderstood childhood friends who are seeing the world as what they want to be and through a sinners and a Christians point of view. They are all based on my creative saints. Still Ongoing though. List of the saints: Dreams Saint Ha...
