Between the Lines Those who look up to me Are lost and outdated. Really, I’m falsely marketed And overrated (Every single day). My smiles are confusion Wrapped in quick remarks, Upon which rest my many lies. As hollow as the pupils of my eyes, I wanna be forgotten and sold To the anonymous skies. My love is trademarked And under license to the highest bidder. A whore for attention, I’m falling and getting thinner. But I’m full of pride, so you Call me a winner. I’ll be yours…if you’ll be my sinner. Share:ShareClick to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pocket (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on Reddit (Opens in new window)Click to share on Skype (Opens in new window)Click to share on Telegram (Opens in new window)Click to share on Tumblr (Opens in new window)Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window) Related May 1, 2012October 31, 2012 Categories: Poetry