You must be the sea,
That washes over me,
Clense me with pneumonia
And kill me silently;
The hope that I keep,
Is slowly poisoning me,
The tears that I reap,
Numb the pain passionately;
Yours must be the eyes,
The ones that lack dispise,
Clense me with a darkness,
To keep me mesmorised;
Yours must be the soul,
That cries so constantly,
Yours must be the hole,
That never fills I see;
The voice that I hear,
Is one that always screams,
With a silent retrobution,
It masacres all your dreams;
So you must be the sea,
That washes over me,
Clense me with your tears,
And kiss me tenderely.
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