Title: Lost of all make up
by Lindia from Devon | in writing, poetry
You bring my head ache my dread, my fear
I don't even wish for a listening ear
No one cares for the first drawn tear
Or any other do they my dear?
I hate to be alone
Where my heart turns to stone
Where gory ghosts moan
With the silent dark tone
Discretion isn't my middle name
Only obsession describes my pain
Your possession my own I wish I could claim
And end this session of which I only complain
So on and so I could complete
And then hope that I would merely fleet
Yes I admit to my defeat
But I'm glad to feel I once was unique
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