You gave me presents,
That had no worth,
But in your presence,
You gave me worth.
With the lies you’ve told,
I was captured,
But it was fool’s gold,
You painted a picture,
Gave me songs,
And wrote me literature:
To feel loved,
To feel admired,
To feel above,
To feel inspired
To feel needed,
To feel cared for,
To feel treated.
So I gave my all to you,
And now I feel poor,
Used, abused and lied to….
Your love seemed sweet as honey,
Presence felt like gold,
I gave my time like money…
Your lies was music to my ears
It was fun playing your games,
I stuck around for years…
Yet it all stayed the same.
Out of all the stories told,
I still fell in love, and now I’m broken up to pieces,
All for your fool’s gold…
– Dorthea Thomas
