Suicidal Love

19 november 2003

The passion is there, but the feeling is not.
Now seeing you as an enemy is all I’ve got.
So many things remain unsaid,
about all the tearfilled nights I’ve had.
I still feel things that you do not.
I can’t stop thinking you get that a lot.

I should see you with joyful eyes,
but I end up looking at you in demise.
It itches like cancer, and it won’t go away.
What I feel for you is there to stay.
Once again my throat bursts out into cries.
Love turns the strongest men to mice.

Lonely in my room at midnight,
my mind is filled with this new insight.
Still the looks of you drive me crazy,
but who did ever say life was easy?
Surely not he who told me of wrong and right,
he only made it worse by getting me into fights.

The rest of the story remains unsaid,
because the ending is yet to be read.
Will anyone miss me when I’m gone?
Will anyone notice that I’m done?
These questions linger through my head,
as I enter the path of the dead.

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