A face of a loser,
Masked by righteousness.

An reckless bargain made,
Trust traded for hurt.

Fake stones, sold as diamonds,
Priceless gems, given as charity.

That's what you were,
Too good to be true.

For you are only a plastic tiara,
That breaks, letting my head down.

You're place ain't on my head,
But in my feet, where you ask forgiveness.

Beg till you bleed tears,
And cry a thousand years.

Now, you are a speck of dust,
That I'm blowing away.

Dust in the eye, blinds me,
Just like your pretty lies did.

Love, hurt and learn,
That's life in a full circle.

But you are not my centre.
I'm my centre. I'm my god.

You will be remembered,
As the boy who murdered.

A murderer of a soul,
Hiding under a mask.

Cowards will never find peace,
But I cuss and forgive.

For I'm not the one that heals,
I'm the one that smiles.

With the pieces of her broken heart,
In her hands that bleed.

Bleed for love.

***

A/N:
She scribbles has been awarded the poetry award and pure talent award by Amateur_Awards. I am so overwhelmed. Thank you for motivating me.