crawling around a wooden box
that box have really high memories
i still remember your funny socks
and all of your favorite accessories
I'm passing by that magic number
or should I say an archive folder
for you I'm getting dumb and dumber
not sure if there's even a certain border
you'd say 'forget 'bout me and move on'
it's so easy for you to say and easier to do
now I'm standing in a hallway all alone
even if I'm trying, there's always thing I screw
hope I'll finish this chapter one day with peace
me and you going two totally different ways
someone should now inform the police
that a certain soul is missing for days
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DIVERSO [EN]
PoetryOnce your champagne eyes turn wine-red, you feel the knife twisting in your chest. -When you hear people mocking you behind your back when you are sick at heart - it is when you know you have entered the ill-conceived adulthood, the sincere womanhoo...
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