it is my sickness you know
you know better than anyone else
yes you do.
in so close we have our home
a home where our dreams
lead us to anywhere
in you i found something
and i try to explain this magic something
at my best
it should be that simple, isn't it
i mean all the things all the words and all the love
no i dont think i could quit smoking
but cause of you i did quit something
something very bad, bloody as well
quit thinking negatively
why poems disappear
alone with dreams and romances
so you still can fall sleep, cant you?
i find it amazing
and unfair
for me to say that at the same time
point four fingers right at me
again why poems disappear?
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