Questions that have no answers.
I ask why I met you...
Why I feel the things that I feel...
It´s been so long, and I think of you still.
I no longer have the liberty to fly.
Now, with my wings cliped,
I ask if you feel the things that I still feel.
Intense, beautiful and intoxicating,
But it´s all wrong.
Or at least, I was raised to believe that.
Yes, to believe that loving you is wrong.
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