It’s the age of constant distraction
Beauty defined by plastic fashion
Such savagery over the next caption
Going to extremes to prove an action
Hate on the menu for us to ration
One kiss you’ll learn he fakes the passion
His love is always on automation
An impeccable liar, the best in the nation
A list of broken souls should be confirmation of his vocation
He’s never been out of rotation
I hope death will be his next vacation
© Delia Ross. 2019
I think I’ve lost my appetite
Please administrator my last rites
Say a prayer or improvise
Say it quick before I die
My breath has ceased, my chest is tight
Love feels like a parasite
My friend she broke to suicide
Now in no one I can confide
But in him I see the light
It feels alot like paradise
If I don’t cool down I might ignite!
It’s possible I might die tonight
Please administrator my last rites
I surrender, there’s no will to fight
© Delia Ross. 2019
I say goodbye for him
I climb mountains with a broken limb
Battered down and wounded still I can feel
Do all I can to fully disappear
I’ve got him on my mind all the time still
And he’ll never know I was even here –
Attending to his garden
Watching his heart harden
Wishing I were less of a burden
If only he’d grant me a pardon
Please speak to the warden
But he hates me I am certain
© Delia Ross. 2019
His love is like Russian Roulette
For all he’s had and still not found love yet
Under his reign I had many debts
The lost and wounded are his favorite pet’s
Losing you won’t give him any regrets
He’s already forgotten you I bet
His love was like Russian Roulette
It doesn’t matter if they are blond or brunette
He’s not interested in her silhouette
Once he’s hooked you he’ll enjoy a cigarette
Making them cry is his largest asset
The only way to go no contact is to move to Tibet
© Delia Ross. 2019
To dream a life of pleasure,
Reside a world of hell.
Demands partial reason,
Denies existence well.
A star so dimly lit,
Still reached the darkest soul.
And in her heart he bit,
Consumed it, left a hole.
© Delia Ross. 2010
PICTURE OF A PICTURE by @poeeternal
I have a picture of a picture
It was clear I wasn’t stricter
I have a picture of her picture
He’d still be here if I were richer
It won’t be long & he will ditch her
She’ll have a picture of his picture
Bury her head deep into the scripture
Dreams will cease she’ll be a wisher
With just a picture of their picture
He’s nothing but an old gold digger
I’ve got my finger on the trigger
A heavy hitter he’s a sinner
You better burn his fucking picture
I can hear his fanbase snicker
While they drown away in liquor
And wish they owned these fucking pictures
Maybe I’ll post them all on Twitter
It’s something maybe I’ll consider
When I’m feeling a bit less bitter
© Delia Ross. 2019
His words will always belie his truth
Underneath the charm a body uncouth
Notice how he’s always feeding on the youth?
Always with his nose sniffing like a sleuth
If you knew his heart you’d find he has no ruth
© Delia Ross. 2018
Find me on Facebook at PoetryforPeople
I’m on Insta too! Keepin’ it real.
Thanks for your support & love!
#poeeternal
