Tears

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Tears

Tears overflow and run from her eyes,
The first tear is love and the others are his lies,
She never really knows the truth of the love that he shows,
When he tells her "I love you", she never really knows,
If he loved her for real,
Then why was her heart no big deal?,
She's blinded from whats true seeing only a lie,
Now all she can feel is the urge to cry,
She handed him her whole loving heart,
To just get it back half broken and torn apart.

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Poetry is finer and more philosophical than history; for poetry expresses the universal, and history only the particular.

Aristotle (384 BC-322 BC) Greek philosopher.

megarae93’s Poems (5)

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Give Thanks 1
Tears 0
Lord, oh, Lord 0
Happy Father's Day, Daddy 0
Home 0

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