My life is a tragic tale,
Such as Shakespeare's stories.
Filled of lies and deception,
Leaving the character with worries.
It's of lovelessness and two-faceness,
Of disappointment which fills the air.
And one turmoil is over,
There's another problem to bear.
I hide myself in its chambers
The barriers of pride vanity and pain
I allow my bad habbits to flourish
As if out of it I had something to gain
Often as I could I'd pretend
To be anyone other than me
I found joy in other's languish
But behind closed doors I wish I could flee
My soul was always locked
As a prisoner of the world
It made me grow up way too fast
Now I'm alone cold and old
I wish so much for many nights
As to the dark my tears I fed
That soon enough my heart could be unburdened
And quickly I could be dead
But as each day passes on by
And my pleas have gone unheard
My lonely haert seeks comfort on a page
As to my feelings I find a Correct word
