If I Was A Girl In A Book
Misery masked itself as pleasure,
Darkness portrayed itself as art.
Or so I believed, naive, unaware —
Your words pierced straight through my heart,
Time drenched in the agony left behind.
The lips that praised me,
no longer did —
Instead they whispered false pretence.
The hands that welcomed me,
no longer did —
Instead they drove a dagger through my innocence.
Nights seemed shallow,
and days hollowed me out,
Yet still you taunt me without ceasing.
Perhaps it is false belief,
Or only wishful thinking —
"If I was a girl in a book,
this would all be so easy."
