The sickness and the diease, as a cure...

Didn’t you see me there?
Walking past the windows chat…
Making a little where my foot hold are nothing but a monotonous trips
Of fools and wisps…

I gave you my word, but the words that they speck are futile..
Are an innocence under toned..
And not a damn thing could ever, reach me here…not single one could
Love me the
Way I want to love you..
The way I envy my own self for you..

I wish I could see your face…
But it seems you’ve  spaced your self from me…
And nothing can be my friend now..
As darkness settles me right in…

I wanted what you gave me..
I proved time and time again
That there is little or more less to my beating of you
And that
I’ve tried so hard to send you away,
Not being able to stand the pain I send into you.
Bu yet you come back every time and I follow
And weep
In the moons of a morrow,
That never comes…

Ce conad dane..forrascho shac, onlia ma gona…

My little imp…