It doesn’t hurt a lot

When there is enough in ones heart

Only few things hurt

It’s the long drive I ride in my white bucephalus

It’s the peaceful library with familiar faces

It’s the steaming tea we have together

It’s only the friendly faces and happy banter

Let me stop here as I can’t go further

What the hell am I doing here?

Trying to stay cheerful listening to some nonsense

When I must be in the class listening to the project sense

Why is it like that I always lose everything I like?