I can’t believe That I stand here The only one that feels… You don’t believe In love Like I don’t believe In God What’s not to believe? Its happiness Its sadness Its joy Its madness It’s unfortunate How a feeling Can suddenly disrupt freedom… We were free To do what we wanted We did what we wanted We were close Close on the couch Close to each other Now I can’t throw a ball to you You’re so far away Distant I still see you in me But you walking away Is the picture Seared painfully in me Saying that I care Won’t be enough Saying that I feel Has obviously made you go
This is the archive of previous writings of the Opiated Sherpa. It's mostly poetry that dates back to 1997, back when I was a sapling of 16. And then since then... this.