Friday, August 7, 2009

This Contagious Disease

The wind blows softly,
The stars shine bright,
I lay here blindly,
Waiting for my life to ignite.

The absence of feelings,
The lack of emotions,
So little that needs dealing,
So much is in ruins.

Waiting for something beautiful,
Waiting for the symptom
Waiting for the international symbol,
Of this Sickness,
Oh, when will it come?

It is a sickness,
A contagious disease,
But it does not fill you with greyness,
It does not cause the end of you,
It is a sickness that keeps you alive,
It keeps the sky bright,
The stars shining, the moon glowing,
It cures you from all your deepest problems,
And this sickness,
This sickness is called love.

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