Sheree Suberan, 11 august 2013
Betrayal is beautiful,
It is in the beauty of the sword
And how it is gracefully stuck into your back.
Even though it might hurt for a while you can help
but to look at the gracefulness of how the betrayer betrayed you!
There beautiful plan to get behind your walls,
how they gently calm up and help you break them down,
how the dance across the land mines you planted,
how they mysteriously cut though the barb wire you place so
expectantly that no one would make it that far,
how they pose so angelic as the plunged the sword str8 into your heart,
piercing even the soul,
as they walked away with everything crumbling around you
and yet you can't seem to give up,
you can't go through a day without that angelic smile,
the movement in there ways!
You can't help but to LOVE the Betrayer!
By Sheree Suberan
Sheree Suberan, 11 august 2013
A single rose can mean more to you, then a dozen, just because of the person who gives it to you.
A single flower can bring you to tears, because of the memories of who you give it to.
A bundle of flowers makes you want to give them to the person you love,
Even after the flowers have withered away, the memories live on
Even though you thought at that very moment, I am not a flower kind of girl now that, that person is gone it means so much more,
That single rose has become a memory of the person you fell in love with,
It becomes a pain to the heart,
It has become a thorn to the mind,
It has the power of bring you to the ground, like a kick to the gut,
But yet you can’t leave the flower behind, you can’t turn away from it, you can’t leave the memory,
You are forced to pick this flower, you can’t control it, it is drawing you in like a moth to a flame, you don’t even realize that the flame may cause you unspeakable damage, it can cause everyone unspeakable damage.
Yet you are drawn in to dance with this flame, it is unnoticeable that you are in a fire being burned alive, but once you have this flame with you, nothing else matters, nothing else hurts,
The pain,
The sorrow,
It’s gone,
All that’s left is a burning moth, with the flames slowly vanishing into the darkness, and the pain returns, the emptiness is back.
You are left with memories of that one beautiful flame that eventually burned out.
By Sheree Suberan
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