Nov 22, 2008


I try to write
But nothing is written
words are escaping
don’t want to be caught

And you, my heroin
You don’t help me at all

Is that because
I give you a home
And ask you to live there
But it’s not yours ?

You don’t want riches?
You don’t want fame?

Don’t ask me, you tell me.
I’m just a fiction.
Your are the real .
The choice is yours.

You know what I like
You know what I don’t
But as for the choice
You know its yours.

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