The Death of a Recurring Romance

A hopeless romantic, a hopeless dream

That’s what is real, and it’s all it will be.

To crush false hope at the source of its seam.

Picture it, sitting on top of a tree.

Picture the tree and a noose hanging high.

Picture the night with no star in one’s sight.

The wind howls loud, an encouraging lie,

Paint the false hope as a pitiful might.

It’s clear that it seems to work itself out,

No, it is not wrong, and time comes up near

Hopelessness lingers around your self-doubt

It’s rambunctious, surplus: please disappear.

Once at a time, the tree did not exist

Oh, pain built it up in the form of roots,

It grew, groped, pursued, no none can resist

Branches, reminders of once his pursuit.

The false faith fates fear; haunts a sore mind

Creating two pictures, one white, one rough

The rough richness lingers, holds in a bind

The binds don’t let go ‘til you’ve had enough.

The faith of a love drives the soul, it’s bound

To the false idol, true love, heart to heart

The hopeless dream lingers, the noose it’s found

It escapes the tree, to find its restart.

 

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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