𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒊𝒔 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆

In a sense and I'm lost.

Behind a foggy window

the world is blurred.

The walls are squeezing,

my mind narrowed.

 I shout why I could describe myself.

Ideas of the last century,

in some places they are still haunted.

I'll get the priest's phone number,

and I will persecute you,

for evil is not in me.

I would buy the soul of a normal person sometimes,

but I always realize

that being normal is damn boring.

I loved the boy,

I loved the girl,

I love myself too,

and I love you...