that is wrong with my
world.
People, noise, crowds
Cynicism, sorrow, gluttony
Oh does this list ever end?
But wait,
Perhaps falling in love
Has nothing to do
With this list?
And so shall we leave love alone?
Let him weave a few false
Bouquets of roses together
Let him lift a few souls into
an awakened sense of being
And tiptoe his way around
Reality, Improbability, Boundaries;
People, noise, crowds
Cynicism, sorrow, gluttony.
That won't make him right, true.
He is not all that wrong anyway.
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