Hate me my dear sweetheart,
As the gift for my love.
Blame me my dear sweetheart,
As the delight for my love.
Rip me my dear sweetheart,
As the joy for my love.
I saw you not as a lover,
But more than that you can't imagine.
You can treat me as a cheat,
But the fact is I am not,
As I am not so you also not.
Not, as clear as white.
My rules made you a prisoner,
And sealed you.
Not in a chamber but in life,
Where your freedoms are forbid.
I treated you as an asset,
But you felt it as a burden.
The burden as heavy as night.
My pen is still open,
And it can spread ink widely,
But my white sheet stops capturing it.
Not because of the ink,
But since the words made it to weep.
If more it falls it turns to sweep,
As the bright in the darkness.
So my open pen stops to spit
And starts to weep with the white sheet.......
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