It's my hallucination.
No it's my crucifiction.
My only temptations..
Call me a saint.
Call me a sinner.
Call me the saint of sinners.
But only the brothers will call me Anglio.
My choices are mine.
The way to life.
Through the eyes of a pleasure monger.
I can't be real.
I caused to many hearts to fail.
I'll whisper my secrets to a note.
But it's all just pretend.
Bent far enough so my head is no longer for what it's meant.
The art of lying is through my silver tongue.
Never be spoken.
But told.
In the form of storytelling.
To those of the heart monger born.
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...
