It comes like a rain
And stays like a wet sunless land
Every step in damp sinking sand
Walking with fever that keeps us warm
In bitter bitter cold it becomes
Pain of the pleasure of pain
It’s every time’s sting

It’s like a branchless tree
Gives no shade yet stands firm
It’s like a home without roof
In the mountains of feelings
It’s like the river that never flown
And it still leaves you wet with it
It’s everyone’s sing

Like a rope it strangles
Yet you hold onto it from falling
A bud that never turned a flower
A laughther that never made it to throat
A cry that echoes in deserts of heart
Like a hope that you could make and cannot
It’s ever place’s despair

Unrequited love smothers you
Yet it gives you borrowed breaths
It owns your nights and mornings
Every face is its face
Every feeling is its feeling
Every place is its place
And every hope is its hope
Every person is for that one
Every song is its song
Every wait is its wait
And every pain is its pain
Every anxiety is its anxiety
Every distress is its own
Every laughter ends for it
Once in a life
It’s everyone’s sing
It’s every time’s sting

A love that never makes to to the end
Is the deadliest of all
It could change everything of you
It deserts you when you need it the most
It makes you not appear in the mirror
It makes you morbid, obsolete and obscure
It’s every innocence’s sin


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