Why do I weep with red wine, while others postier and smile? Is it not the sound of silence, or the knowing that tonight is a lonely one, as the one before and the one tomorrow?

Fortuitous is the foundation of relational attraction and knowing; they know no bounds in the mind of me. Or the one who've come before. And while I romance the ideas of those they don't understand, they sit in amazement at their own lives. Lives of peace. Lives of true romance; of love and of abounding joy. I could write for ages about how the condition of not knowing is greater than the condition of feeling; of understanding and of true desire to love.

But I won't. And while Shaw criticizes, I sit in silence; dull to the world and to myself, for my own inaction and the misunderstanding of a world that is too caught in peace than love.

And, why shouldn't it be?


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