A Crumbled Mess :

Spellbound hopeless lovers lies, made up romance like ripping pages from a book,
more often just a crumbled mess upon the floor,
  paper mache stories missing words so hard to tell,
Twisted up like macrame sentences of brain washed Ministers telling lies of made up eternity, hookers and whores the story goes,
Scattered about like missing luggage on a roundabout turnstile,
   Searchers lust ye wander lost for time, less thee words of a empty book,
Plaster one upon another tis that they lie laughter behind sad words,
   More often they steal thee crumbled mess upon the floor,
Ransacked memories tis all you gather,
 Nor pictures known not sorrow that one seems lost for words,
Another moment no hands to hold ne'er a face to look upon only strips of lies tidy curtains thus hide behind,
   Forgery simplistic the common, cast a shred of hearecy,
 Forget your lies your stories too, the father son and holy ghost,
   Ripped to pieces whence you came from perverts just as well,
  More often just a crumbled mess upon the floor,
  Your sad lies thus trivial tries saving words not knowing,
    Tell one more, mearly forgotten whence you foolish one,
   Just the same thinking, living on lies thus torn from pages of made up stories,
 
 Dark Poet©
  April 20 2013.