I am lost, forgotten in the world where I stay,
invisible, though I ain’t a million miles away;
No whispers behind my back, shouts more,
feel wanted at times, though mostly ignored.
After so many stabs, you’d think I’ve learned,
no good can come here when often spurned.
By optimism consumed, I’ve built on this lie,
that all friends are forever, even after we die.
Fool’s paradise, that’s where I always reside,
I cannot escape, cannot even say I have tried.
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Yes, sometimes we don't give ourselves enough credit to edit our so called friends. It is just easy to stay in Fool's Paradise.ReplyDelete