You're never here when the Birds sing. (original) (raw)

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Writing a poem is like
trying to find solace
in the beautiful scenery
The warmth of a bath high up in the mountains

Touching the soft skin of
that beautiful creature in your bed

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People can't live without some trouble around, eh?
I know, I know…
Just that, the sun is shining.
I feel like singing, not crying.
I want you to dance with me.
Out in the warmth.
With nothing to worry about.
Even if it's just for a while.
Because I'm so tired. Of everything...
So please, just this moment.
Before the sun goes down.
Then it's time for
Something else than dancing

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I could never leave
Because if I did, all the things that
I might miss
Would haunt me (to the grave)
And still

I can't stand anymore
Your laughter echoing in the basement
Such a hollow sound
Like a hundred years of loneliness
No time to think
and the coffee's cold

But what can you do?
If there's nothing left
not even paper
nor a pencil
Just your nails
and the walls

And late at night
When I catch a glimpse of your
pure white night gown
outside in the garden
it's cold, and it's raining
And that fever of yours
I'm unable to move

Your laughter echoing in the basement

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And you should know
That although comforting other people
is something that's just so familiar
It's not easy
It just is Not

Because little by little
I have been dying
During these cold years
of emotional rollercoasters
Feel like dying in the morning
Feel like the king of the world in the evening
All the way to slitting your wrists at night
While laughing cos you've never
Never felt so alive
And alone