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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2011-02-06 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
We are wiser now,
But I still find myself catching fire Every once in a while. And it's for those moments that I crave I hunger for that self professed agony that can only be brought by oneself through careless and profound falling. We are of the damaged men as we throw our sanity to the mercy of doubtful, sinful feelings. And over futile odds I can always sense how my heart's desire is never to be full again, but better still to ache continuously for something as hazardous as happiness. So the battle is carried on indefinitely each scar is laughed at by the gods, but I know how they envy us for we can feel ourselves breaking and still live with thoughts of clear, ever lasting love.
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