if there were love?, (now that's a different story), altogether
sometimes, whenever the belief that i'vean actual almost acquired direction.
always at this moment i'm haunted
with the memory of the injection.
as if it somehow in effect won. why?
it's not as if i have an affection for this dejection.
only for the reality of its social disconnection.
and each time to pass away
into my very own unique resurrection.
now i ask you, can life get any further from perfection?
and that's yet another story of rejection.
if i could just be in love?!
i'd glady trade all this
for thats protection.
tyke
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