Broken Promises
I suffer from unfulfilled dreams.
I just wish they would stop.
I am force to think and assume.
That my heart is just a prop.
A inanimate object in life.
Used for pleads of plays.
But if I could sound out my heart.
You would hear you played it for days.
And days, and days, til I can’t take the pain.
Dealing with with false accusations.
Of a true loves rain, and terror reigns.
But range just seems so strange.
But time heals all things.
Except broken promises which can’t be exchanged.
Or remade into a figure that I know.
Because when it’s broken it’s gone.
And when it’s gone, I’m left broke.
On my words I choke, like a verb cut throat.
The pen is mightier than the sword.
So I ink sliced my rope,
I removed the chains that once held me.
Once compelled me, to tell thee.
That thy shall not compare thee,
to a summers day, because what did Shakespeare say?
“Better three hours too soon, than a minute too late.”
Well times up, no more sabotaging me,
like a gun holding hostages.
Because my spirit will hold me strong.
But I fall weak to broken promises.
(2013)
