Waiting on unreal love.
I have never been a child cuddled by love, neither did I understood the warmness of comfort or a privilege of been pampered and pleased and damaged with excessive compassion, I have believed so much on love but never for once have I been heard or cuddled with the warmness of this arms, I have raised my pitch on love and I have never been patted on the back with assurance that I’ve been heard by love or that things will get better while am here appealing to be heard, neither has a word of encouragement o’er the building with assurances that I would be visited once by the angels that trade on love! This constant pain seems to give me thoughts that could erased this pain, we are from different worlds and if ever you come across love, tell her that I have been treated unfairly, and I wish this treatments could be reviewed. where what I treasure can’t be my desire, tell her that this mockery is overbearing and its tearing me into a billion pieces, maybe I’ve lost touch to what is reality, and unbelief and impatience are calling as a tempest making me afraid of what issues love is debating on my desires, or I don’t believe in what should be after all this years of waiting to be heard…like selling your misery where there are no buyers!, but in case you know love, tell her that I have held so many broken promises, I have hung on a thousand dreams unfulfilled missions and perchance somebody passes my tombstone let nobody gloat that they have never been jilted by love or its messengers…. that the pains created is never like a living reality, tell love that I have an abyss of a void that can’t be filled and if she can fill it then the streets would never be flooded with empty dreams.
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