Paranoia Of The Dread

The anonymous speaks to me.
Speaks of misgivings and curiosities.
With reason unknown.
With symptoms of desperation.
Do you really have to know?
What is it you already think?
A imaginary connection.
It doesn't really exist, it is all your head.
Paranoia of the dread.
Fishing for a story that's already dead.
It's not my fault, I didn't tell you what to think.
I'm just a simple man.
Their is no elaborate plan.
A failure to condemn.
Another useless hymn.

poem by Ace Of Black Hearts
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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