Fake


Christmas lost its color honey
and slowly I die within.
Broken hearts line the boulevard
and within her lies the sin.
So many broken dreams, like fallen
leaves that lost their color.
Sadness is the truth, the
story of my father.
She's got a sweet smile from the
regret of the love she killed.
I hear they're bringing back the sacred
nights and I am thrilled.
Staring off in the direction that has
no course.
Meet us there where it's clear and
nothing is fake.

The illustration, "Smile," created by and © K.L.Storer, all rights reserved.