Monday, July 7

Love labour lost's dying...slowly
lost conversation which had life,
meaning which lost its orgin
my will cut by a knife
a knife of nothingness, no care, no topic, just dead.
trying all dictionaries in the world to decipher
this feeling.
Perhaps the word "gone"
Ignorant of everything at last
just live for a better tomorrow alone
with a hung up phone
conversation more more more contact
world of greyish tinge that embodies the swollen heart
the left part walked left...the right part walked right
painful sight
just like a loose kite,
no where to go
but lost.
Hate it...what am I doing? What are you doing?

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