Blur

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Blur

Days pass into weeks,

Weeks begin to blur,

Nothing ever changes

My thoughts begin to stir,

You go behind my back,

Take this life away,

Is there something better?

I can't take another day

 

Sometimes it's hard to see,

If there's good inside of you,

I could change everything about me,

And it still wouldn't be good enough

 

All this time spent,

These blood, swear, and tears,

Far more tears than the rest,

To confirm my fears,

That you never cared at all,

No matter how hard i tried,

I would die if you said it,

I love you, although you lied

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Poetry is what gets lost in translation.

Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

wordsunspoken’s Poems (11)

Title Comments
Title Comments
Needles, Scalpels, and other forms of Love 0
Torn Me Apart 2
Lost 0
Blur 0
One 0
Dreaming 0
The Weight of the World 2
Choices 0
What You've Done 3
Memory 0
Misconception 1