Your inaustere promise of effort
has been forlorn with the light of your eyes.
The same mistakes as when we first severed,
I swear that my faith will be my demise.
You once made me whole, yet now so hollow
I emulate your heart's dark reflection,
but no longer in this path will I follow
for you're not worthy of my affection.
As the ink spill, no torment now remains
banishing memories on paper, you're shed
'til I can read back on this with no pains
of how you went back on the things that you said.
A feeling of the heart can soon depart
when considered and picked apart by art.
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