The hour of trembling,
forced by the genius idea
of your left hand,
marches in my vivid breast.
Speak to me in words of
"I don't know"
so that I can discover
you...again
along with others
who are or will be.
There is no egoism in love, dear,
and whatever penetrates
my body, soul, or mind
it is what it is.
So, tell me...
Can you love me and leave me
at the same time?
Because I have an urge
to be me,
the authentic one.
So much social construction
keeps people away from life,
and all we are is just
a net on the tennis court.
I am sorry
I am not
the way you designed me...
Or not,
I am not sorry for me
I am sorry for you
...and only if I were another,
the one who doesn't fall.
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