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(To feel sorrow; repent; regret bitterly) You're fun, I'm not. We are two opposite pole Made of the same flesh and bone. Still, I'm ready to let go. You're like a bird that glides free, For me, my cave is my solace, A quiet place of tranquillity. A glance in my cone, You'll get to know, I'm a mess, But you, O you, You present yourself with such finesse. I love to watch you fly high 'Tis love, 'This love I have, Letting you go, Tis love I claim. ∞ ∞ ∞
— Cotek