love is like a sickness, it stays and grows
deeper and deeper,we are the only ones
that know the keeper,the one behind the
curtain,but are we really that curtain, do
they know we love them or not,are they all
caught up,in there own life their own
love,there own fantisy,there own
vision,but do we care,do we dare to care
that they might have a love of there own?

 
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