As told by an Oxymoron


A peaceful war.

A troubled paradise.

Absolutely unsure of the life given.

Deafening silence.

Silent noise filling each cavity of the soul.

The sad smile that is omnipresent,

But clearly misunderstood.

The blameless culprit,

Posessing such an arrogant humility.

Sickeningly enticing.

This blameless culprit

Began this peaceful war,

Put this sad smile on this.

Painless torture in this pleasant hell

Called Love.

This insane logic and wordless book

Called Love.

Confused with lust, oh that love.

An alltogether, separate feeling,

A line, a fine line,

Growing small,

Yeat still a line.

Separating the lust from the love.

Separating the larmless sin from the infatuation.


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