drops full of anger, guilt and betrayal pouring downfrom my eyes like rain in a sleepless nightsoaked in blood and it’s stains on my gray shirttwo daggers stabbed at the same spottheir existence in my words and workbut for them I’m just a mirage,a pseudo reflection of life in a dead deserta hand to pull them out of it, a toy to be pushed into ita ecosystem flourishing in peace but burnt down by fire one nightmy quill, my papers untouched for a time,lived in an illusion, a lie, that unforgivable sin
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Mirage in a Dead Desert
This poem is about a character who was betrayed by somebody he loved or just cherished. His muse exists in every piece of art that this character has ever created but to the one who betrayed him, this character was never important. This theme continues to revolve in many poems by me, most importantly in "I Sent the Text" poetry series.
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