STOLEN LIPS

Like leaves in a river,

This is how I wanted to live,

But now I'm afraid,

My color has become strange.

The birds know me,

Because they are wild.

I listen to them often,

They carry my wandering soul.

But their lips are not stolen,

Nor are roses in their hands,

Only forgotten butterflies.

Don't expect kisses here,

Because our lips have been stolen.