Tears slowly falling to the grund,
along your skin,
colored by thematuration you got,
by those people who killied you.
Killed by your feelings,
you´re just the spectator,
stop and stare.
You try to do it, but you´re hold back by a wall of glass.
A wall built up from your tears, stapled on the grund.
(c) das Lyrische Ich
Bless you.
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