deja vu in a world made of love
tears can be the only honesty
one could suspect today
the only madness
of a perfect world
where i can have it all
except the one thing
i longed for
since time started to be
my measure.
and someone was not strong enough
to catch my fall
to make an untrue promise
of an improbable tomorrow
and someone was not weak enough
to be broken like me
to let himself cut
into pieces.
and someone could not believe enough
in something i longed for
since time started to be
my measure.
This poem was written by Eliza Simon on Feb 26, 2008.
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