what is this shit you deal to me
assuming I'll forgive you on bended knee
you led me to believe
that you would not deceive
my interest in you;
an apology is hardly my due
your lies were the things of dreams
holding up your deception, as beams
I foolishly thought to believe
in your love, how naive
now I sit and I weave
my tattered remains, to which I cleave
with all that is left
without hope, bereft