<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=490735" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Mask Que Raid</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">we both know<br>this game </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the masks we wear<br>the things we do</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i hide in the forest of<br>words<br>you too behind those<br>trails and trees of<br>routine</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we have not exhausted<br>excuses<br>i am adept at <br>concocting them</div><div style="margin:10px 0">when we make love<br>it was something else<br>less than<br>what we wish for</div><div style="margin:10px 0">my mind travels in<br>labyrinths of<br>familiarity</div><div style="margin:10px 0">i've been there and i<br>know where i come from and where i am going</div><div style="margin:10px 0">inside my mind, this is a straight path<br>and i am obliged</div><div style="margin:10px 0">when i wake up this morning<br>there will be no changes in the way</div><div style="margin:10px 0">all things are put<br>well, well put and steady</div><div style="margin:10px 0">the house shall open same windows<br>the door maintains same keys and locks</div><div style="margin:10px 0">we still are<br>and shall never part </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the sun still shines on the east<br>(even if we know that it is this place<br>where we stand that is rotating) </div><div style="margin:10px 0">the moon is full tonight<br>we are ready with the clinks</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Ric+S.+Bastasa">Ric S. Bastasa</a><div class=q> <img src="https://www.citatepedia.ro/g/32share.png" style="float:left" alt="Share"> <script type="text/javascript" src="//s7.addthis.com/js/300/addthis_widget.js#pubid=citatepedia" async="async"></script><div style="display:inline-block" class="addthis_sharing_toolbox" data-url="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=490735" data-title="Mask Que Raid de Ric S. Bastasa" data-description="we both know this game the masks we wear the things we do i hide in the forest of words you too behind those trails and trees of routine we have not exhausted excuses i am adept at concocting them when we make love it was something else less..."></div> </div> </div>

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