AN: This is a poem I wrote about being sick of only being happy when I make
the endings in my mind. When I can control the happiness. Only being happy
when I'm the one writing the story.
Reality
What is life is just pretend.
Pretends all you've got.
You live in a dream world of thinking and thought.
This life that you live, is bringing you down.
Pretending is not real,
Your life is not around.
Your sick of fighting this hope and pretend.
Nothing comes true, the ends just the end.
Thoughts are all false. Hopes are all smashed.
Stories you make end in the trash.
Reality you know is no better then this.
How can anything better life being pure bliss?
But you still want to leave this dream world behind.
In reality you know true love you wont find.
You leave it behind but every pain brings it back.
In reality you know, life is full of that.
the endings in my mind. When I can control the happiness. Only being happy
when I'm the one writing the story.
Reality
What is life is just pretend.
Pretends all you've got.
You live in a dream world of thinking and thought.
This life that you live, is bringing you down.
Pretending is not real,
Your life is not around.
Your sick of fighting this hope and pretend.
Nothing comes true, the ends just the end.
Thoughts are all false. Hopes are all smashed.
Stories you make end in the trash.
Reality you know is no better then this.
How can anything better life being pure bliss?
But you still want to leave this dream world behind.
In reality you know true love you wont find.
You leave it behind but every pain brings it back.
In reality you know, life is full of that.
