Not Really Your Type


12th post. 5th poem.

You are a memory not a dream come true.

Peace like a river I thought you’ll be

But you’re the devil in the hell of fire

I thought you’ll set me free from the fire of the cruel world

But instead you’re setting the fire bigger.

The day I met you, it was a dream come true

But soon it turn into my hateful memories

You’re words were like beautiful flowers

But I forgot that flowers dies when it’s seasons is over

Now tell me what do you hate about me…

I remember nothing for doing any wrong

But what ever it is, I’m sorry

Maybe I’m not really your type.

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