The Forgotten Land

It feels as if it has been eternity

Peering outside at the forgotten land.

Similar to revolving doors,

People come and go.

Kisses are dispensed.

Stories are discussed in

Throes of passion,

And all the time

I just hate, hate, hate it.

I hate the stomping of their

Feet and the different music in our ears.

And somewhere in a parallel world

We are laughing

At all the hours we wasted

Giving deep kisses to eachother

In our forgotten paradise.

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