By MILI mili_vanili@hotmail.com
Date: 30 July 2000
REALITY BITES
If I am weak
and my words start loosing politically correct form
In your hands I'll find shelter
from concussions and revolting storm.
In this fucked-up life
where fairytales just don't exist
you face me firmly
to a highly optioned daily depression risk.
I live in constant fear
of being drowned by my own expectations,
but than again you calm me dear
with some pointless nowhere going conversation.
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