Nameless2022/08/04 16:08

The poem is about addictions, both good and bad


Allow the sunlight to introduce itself,
shining over the pretty petals,
Cause when the plates come on the table,
Attachment is all they want,
The food shelved deep down in the hearts,
Oh! You pretty wooden hearts.

The table hearts are common sense proof,
They just need sweet words,
And when you help them out to the roof,
They crave brains that makes them feel more smooth,
Lie to them, they don't really care,
Oh! You pretty wooden hearts.

They are less social acceptable,
So they like to stay inside,
When they cry, they sound horrible,
Sucking the hell out of the pride,
Brown little tears,
All the way to the chicks from the eyes,
Oh! You pretty wooden hearts.

They can easily be broken,
That's why they always brag,
They like to hide the pain,
Even though they are always careful about the red flags,
They get more charming when they are about to hear some lies,
Oh! You pretty wooden hearts.

They get sad when they are sad,
They get angry about being angry,
Alarming thoughts lurking,
When they think about what they are lacking,
Rooted brutally and more honestly,
Oh! you pretty wooden hearts.


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