Life will never be the same

Touch is breathing when you share

Smiles cry in the everlasting game

And only few lives

are in attention

I've locked them up on

Autumn squere-wear

Where am I?

Diseffective method of living

A chance of being only right

between

Deep compeaving and nusty punch

Unwroten title for the end

Of incomming

That appears. Never.

Where am I?

When I need me now, ok

Pulling out some how.