Who we are?
I keep wondering..
We both have been hurt..
Our hearts are still bleeding..
We are a mess..
Yet I still confess..
I have dreamt of being in your arms..
I have had with others and their love bombs..
As the world is going gaga over their musical mayor..
Not one of the "Tortured Poets"..
But I bare my soul..
Even if it lacks all the flair..
You poured your love into my empty cup..
Maybe I am too burnt out after dealing with the prig..
That I lost myself and caught the ick..
No longer know how to play the grown-up..
So, who we are?
Are we lovers or friends..
Or two strangers who pretend..
Maybe this is, how it ends...
When the veil of insanity drops over..
I see you are not my four-leaf clover..
You knew this all too well..
I feel better in my own clamshell..
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