en fin dikt jag hittade på någon blogg, kommer ej ihåg vilken.

its nothing you said its nothing you did it
belongs to everyone,
one day next to it if im strong ill stay
its everything you said and did
you touch
you give
it is never well enough recieved
in a contemplating state of mind
or who am i kidding in this worn out fucking kind
of mind. of fucking mind.
nothing is ever well recieved,
only melancholy is concieved