everyone in Paris has something to sell
their hopes, their dreams, their souls as well
love is just a drug it'll kill you fast or make you suffer
everything is cold at night, love is just a buffer





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this wasn't really supposed to be a poem, it's just a few words that came to my mind when I was walking in Paris
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07/07/2002

Posted on 07/07/2002
Copyright © 2024 Emily G Myers