Poem, poems, poetry, Uncategorized

The Devil

There was Satan behind our backs

Walking with us on the London Bridge

I didn’t know

but you probably were aware of it

judging by the level of your paranoia

For me, just slightly off, romantic darkly

Everything was perfect.

Now the love is gone,

The war is on, which was then just hanging in our verses –

I would like to have a pink house with a white porcelain in it,

You could go in,

You could go out,

no pressure,

The problem is, I don’t have a palace,

no single room of independence –

I guess, that’s fate,

What can I do

Some people loose in checkers.

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