Friends with Flying Phantoms

Too high to reach
Too light to touch
I can only do so much.

With a heavy heart
And too many false starts
You’re destructive like faux art.

You reeled me in
Like sugar to a diabetic
Now I need a medic.

To cleanse my mind
Of all your promises and bitter lies
Of never saying goodbye.

I guess you can’t believe what people say
On this bright noon day
Much like the the flowers that bloom in May.

They wither and wilt away
That’s what they were designed to do
That’s life, it’ll happen to me and to you.

© privatethoughtsmadepublic. 2017.


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