So many times, I've seen it go
Seen the path it leaves behind,
But I must be blind,
Because still I follow in it's wake.
They say it's the best feeling,
When it comes, when you find it.
But come on, what about after?
How do they know how that feels?
It's said that in it's true form,
However, that there is no after,
There is no emptiness, no betrayal,
No coldness, no loneliness.
And even knowing all this,
Saying all these words,
I find it funny,
That I still fall for it.
It's a weird thing...
Love
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