True Poetry
There is a Shortage
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Seeing you, I feel like you,
There is no shortage of dedication,
In those fragrant moments of sweet love,
You had no complaints with me,
There was no swing in your heart,
There was no reciprocity,
Without these things in the headache,
The helplessness of the sadness,
Is my mind shrewd, or stupidity, or
There is a shortage of offerings,
If there was any heartburn in the heart,
Then what was the point of talking openly,
Smiling for the sake of appearances,
What if I did not see or see,
I was lost only in the smiles,
I could not read the confused feeling,
My eyes had read something wrong, or
There is a shortage in the mirror,
With the support of the dates in the past,
We did the concept of light,
The word was given for something, mutually,
We had the best of questions,
In the same promise, the promise of oath,
I am brought to the Gladstone Bronze,
Wanders the spirits of memories, or
There is a shortage in the effort.
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