This is a walk in the dark,
This is the story of a guy roaming random streets
With his soul torned to bits
And of course he sees the sights
But he also cries the sighs
If you see him walking by, say hi
Everything is so out of range
He'll accept some care even if your face is strange
At the dead end of each street
He faces her face,
Regardless of his walking pace
And his tears come easy,
Like for every man in need of care
As everyone labeled spare, and he's tired
He doesn't know the boardwalks,
Not even the direction,
Just like he doesn't know anymore what is affection
I wrote this imagining Cohen's metric
Because it's so poetic,
I hope I don't look pathetic
But I have so much inside I can't neglect it.
08/11/2019
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