Eight of my mistakes

 ❁❁❁

Eight of my Mistakes
All in the name of you.
-Miss A

Don’t know what to say,
For it’s been over so many years,
That I can’t count it on my fingers
Yet, even with all the dilemma
That you’d put me through
I still take it for the best.
Eight of my mistakes,
All in the name of you.

The first once doesn’t even need to be said
So obvious I can’t lie, attraction
Take a aim, even a bad shot arrow
Can hit a bull’s-eye, closeness is just the same
But in the name of jokes and confidence.
But confidences are not one to one
News flows, and flows to you, you know it all
I’m thankful, for your approach, can’t pronounce lucky.

The second once that comes around is faith
Even when you know, they are all formalities,
To them, nothing like a fire burns inside
You make a collage with torn fragments of paper
A waste in it’s right, then you glue them together.
You look at it and call a masterpiece,
Like a polished perfect realistic cat in a painting,
You pet it, you claim it, and it’s yours. Are you sure?

Third can’t be tamed, but the fallacy of trust
What do you have on me? What I have on you?
None.
No bonds, no promises, no love.
Was it respect which moved on forward?
You never gonna know.
Like a secret ingredient a chef never reveals
Unknown, but yes, it tastes so good.

Try to prove me wrong, but the fourth
Is as worse as the first one, hail fantasies
They don’t dry in a moment,
It pours like the rain, heart of a fountain.
You forget who you are, and swim in the sky
You try to stay in touch with the soil
But the current flows in the direction of adrenaline.
But yet when you wish the shooting star, you ask for it.

Pin it down, but jealousy is a crime in itself
It comes after so many points,
But is the leader of ache that rules all
Mind or body or soul, it’s evil,
Like a claim of devil itself
In the face of nothingness
Where a favor seems like heaven,
And separation itches like kisses of thorns.

Possession, the sixth sorcery is for the once who can claim,
Praying for being possessed seems like
Putting all the fine assets to be claimed.
Pushing away the thoughts of being abandoned
Pines at the core, whatever you call; love is ensorcelled.
Payments for the same, just a section of your innocence
Parts of it to let out to be distorted until it is inexistent.
Particularly, the menace of the personality you believed was yours.

Sweet sevens are the crush of the berries
Making you forget a reality or an environment,
Drunk in imagination, getting pulled in whenever
Making you question, if this is the medicine they call poison.
But it’s a drug, making you not able to see over day dreams
It’s an addiction, you didn’t realize you fed yourself.
They gonna ask why it hurts. They know it better themselves.
Identification of human reality waits, waits, until later when it hits.

Eighth of the sin, is not a sin
But it’s kinda forbidden, because it’s not hollow
Nostalgia must not be taken in a high dose
It argues with you, what went wrong?
Cookies and biscuits are not the same
What shall I determine my sadness for?
Happiness or a game of the lame?
Whatever is the point of view, all in the name of you.

Why is there an end? Why is it not like the stories?
Why are there no promises for a lifeline?
A million questions, yet I know it all within
The era of musical chairs, the seat is for one
The one who reigns it, revolves around it,
But won’t play with you to offer you a seat.
Describing agony is simple, you only feel that alone,
Made me apologize to myself, for new found cold.

❁❁❁❁❁❁❁
 








 

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