Lost, not to be found Anymore

You left me statements with rumores,
to kill my conversation, these feelings was beside me, was I set up to take this shot, on the balcony like King.
Marching with my cries If I could speak the hurt that has its on morals
our dream of being in love wouldn't be just the media for politics,
You told him first, you didn't want me
anymore, by all means was it
necessary to exercise your right to vote that my heart didn't matter.
By Fredrick Pennix Aka Praiser The Poet The Show;Off Worshiper