You convinced me to love you with the illusion of it being mutual. 

Inserting the right notion at the right moment.  

Pulling back when you felt too close.

An artist you are my dear, your work so tactfully approached. 

Carried out with meticulously selfish physical gain. 

Feelings dangled over the edge, a desperate lunge to embrace their warmth.

Left grasping a mirage of reality, a cruel daydream. 

Again the temptation presents itself, foolishly the chase ensues.

A cycle; a violent one.

Psychological status becomes the daily questionnaire.



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