Love.
Is it a joke?
Is it a game?
Is it a picture in a frame?
Is it a dream?
Is it a race, to an imaginary place?
How do we know
Why we are here?
Why we are bound to disappear?
Is it a joke,
Or is it a game?
Could it be true that we're all the same,
Like all those people long ago?
I guess I'll never really know...
-Elizaveta
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