Mist
Everything turns into mist and sand; impossible to reach, impossible to keep.
I let the waves sway me, back and forth, but my patience has limits and I am cynical.
The cycle of giving and taking may commence, while I keep my eyes open and step out whenever it suits me, as usual.
Quite soon, maybe a year later, this will all fall in line, ironies of life, something to laugh at when secretly my soul dies.
When it comes to loving, I become a child. Unbearable.
I got what I wanted, my beloved little brothers, I always get what I want. I just don't know how to keep it. People will never be mine.
Selite:
oletus
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