Mirage 2.0

I thought that he was far away but he doesn’t exist
I thought they were a bouquet of poems, not a blade to cut my wrist
For a moment, I felt loved, now I feel his fist
And whatever I’ve done, well he’s over it

One, two, three, four, there’s so many grabbing at his line
It was written for her but now nevermind
And if he can’t have her, we get zero rhyme
If he only knew they left us completely blind

He kept us marching so long in the desert
And thirsty we were for any squirt
We were just disciples for him to hurt
And the connections that were made he doesn’t give a fuck

© Delia Ross. 2019

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