Untitled


To say you're alone is weak,
for you are the result of your crimes,
and Karma has hurt you more than twice,
but you'll never notice,
so why should I?

Sometimes it hurts to see you so cold,
vacant and alone in your high tower,
even in this wondrous spring you are wilted,
frozen in a time that you probably see through roses,
pale pinks and whites are all we are.

Let's quickly talk about us,
because I don't see it forever;
you are only you,
and I am both.

When I leave you shall relish,
complain and hurt and moan and wail,
because it was all me and never you,
just like her and her and her,
and all it takes is to be nice.

Sad.

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