You see what you want to see, and it is real to you until in hindsight you realize what the fool you have been.
That when I wonder why it is, I wonder way too much.
I think of things I think I've seen, I think I've seen the rust.
I think the things I thought would last are nothing of the such.
I wonder why I think of things, the things I think I've seen,
I wonder if the things I think, are things that could've been.
Never have I seen the things I think I wonder about.
but thinking why I wonder is, I am, I think, I doubt.
A dangerous thing, a thing called hope, a danger to your heart,
Your hopes are dreams and dreams are ropes, at the seams you come apart.
You hold in your hands, your hands do hold, you hold what you cannot see.
Your eyes are closed to how close you were, how close you were to me.
These things I think I wonder about have left me thinking why,
I think I feel something that I thought at one time wasn’t mine.
Why must I think the things I think if I'm only left to feel.
This piece, this part, of someone's heart, I think I thought was real.
Poetry by Bonehead83
Read 170 times
Written on 2022-07-05 at 22:30
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Things I Think
I scratch my head and wonder why, why is it a must?That when I wonder why it is, I wonder way too much.
I think of things I think I've seen, I think I've seen the rust.
I think the things I thought would last are nothing of the such.
I wonder why I think of things, the things I think I've seen,
I wonder if the things I think, are things that could've been.
Never have I seen the things I think I wonder about.
but thinking why I wonder is, I am, I think, I doubt.
A dangerous thing, a thing called hope, a danger to your heart,
Your hopes are dreams and dreams are ropes, at the seams you come apart.
You hold in your hands, your hands do hold, you hold what you cannot see.
Your eyes are closed to how close you were, how close you were to me.
These things I think I wonder about have left me thinking why,
I think I feel something that I thought at one time wasn’t mine.
Why must I think the things I think if I'm only left to feel.
This piece, this part, of someone's heart, I think I thought was real.
Poetry by Bonehead83
Read 170 times
Written on 2022-07-05 at 22:30
Save as a bookmark (requires login)
Write a comment (requires login)
Send as email (requires login)
Print text
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