Life will never be the same
Touch is breathing when you share
Smiles cry in the everlasting game
And only few lives
Are in attention
I've locked them up on
Autumn squere-wear
Where am I?
Diseffective method of living
A chance of being only right
Between
Deep compeaving and nusty punch
Unwroten title for the end
Of incomming
That appears. Never.
Where am I?
When I need me now, ok
Pulling out some how...