You said you'd tell me
something about
how does it feel to
lose it all,
not all at once,
but just slowly watch it
crawling away one thing
after another,
that feeling when you
sit there watching,
knowing too well
there's not much
you could do about it.
Well, after all,
I tell you,
I tell you how does that feel
to know too much
about yourself
and yet too little about
anything else,
I tell you I cease
to understand,
but no, I understand very well
every feeling you've ever
told me about, because
someone else has already managed
to explain it to me
a few times, which was
half a life before you
but is still just a couple of pages back.
How can I ever stand up again?
Now go ahead,
you tell me.. :
spaces between the lines hold just about the right time to think about it