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by Reaper
Rated: E · Poetry · Psychology · #2292974
There's no place for love where there's obsession. Here's what I think of obsession.

I'm drowning inside the mist of the world you created;
Nothing I can do, nothing I can see;
Where are you? Laughing, aren't you?
Tremors I get as I hear them call out your name;
Weren't you just existing in my dreams? Or were they shards of memories I forgot I ever spent with you?
Who are you?
Why do I see you staring at me like a fallen angel?
Did you visit Satan on the way down? You drive me crazy as you do, telling lies, twirling like the wind of the unknown snowy lands;
Lands of mountains, mountains of greens and whites;
The valley called me within the mist, in the mist I saw her, I saw you;
Smiling, you were, calling me out, weren't you?
Walked, I walked, past the river of attachment, almost I slipped, but never fell;
Deeper into the woods of the forbidden fruit;
Fruit of lust, straight off the tree besides the bank of love, took a bite of it didn't you?
What is love?
Me being the outcast with a lost soul doesn't know;
Perhaps it was you, all this time;
Is it love?
Haven't I fallen a million times, if that what it is?
Was it you every time?
Do I even care, as I follow you past the abyss of nothing, nothing, but shadows remain;
Shadows of you, you, who whispers in my ears, "Are you this obsessed with me?"
I had no answer, neither do I have it now, as I follow the mist past nothing;
Tremors I get when I hear voices calling your name, who are they?
I'm drowning inside the mist of the world you created;
Nothing I can do, nothing I can see;
All I know is that I want you.

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