the factory of tears is no longer open.
i’m hoping for some recognition,
but my repetition is not accidental;
an instrumental of my emotions.
memories are seas, deeper than any ocean.
full of pride, i will hide in a box of tissues;
i’ll moisten the interior with my depressive issues,
and i don’t believe we change for no apparent reason.
what i love you in the most is that you never stop teasing.
Luka.