The
love we had before
Smells
like a rotten egg long left in the fridge.
The
lonely dark night
Swallows
me sitting
Under
this tree
The
wet rain dams me...
While
the little old owl
On
a fig tree above me
Is
hooting low...
Why
little old owl,
Do
you cry this low?
Is
it the rain?
Or
has your love too,
Become
a rotten egg?
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