He let his mind kill his soul
With the dagger of selfishness
As he bled in joy or in pain.
Two watery eyes was all he remembered
Quitely staring at him in disbelief.
He couldn't meet those eyes.
A devil in her eyes
Who resembled him in every sense.
He wrote his thoughts out
To stop the never ending possibilities
That flooded through the gates of remorse.
And in the whirlpool of these thoughts
He searched for an answer
Was his victory truly glorious?
A crown with the stains of curses.
As a poet he was known
His mind drifted away from sadness.
Forgiveness, he never sought.
Maybe he never deserved.
His mind bore only a fragment of her.
A fragment that consumed his soul.
Confined in his room,
His pale hand never stopped.
Lost appetite, couldn't sleep.
And on his death bed he wrote,
" Betrayal was never easy,
Neither for you,
Nor for me".
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