I reclaim my spear and shield,
for crying games its too late.
From lonely nights to mocking days,
in marrow still lives small ancestors.
The delusion of fairy-tales, falling apart
into other creatures, simply by a word.
On the ruins of my past, I paint with
white and black ashes, my only tools,
a new house, river-like.
Vanishing heros, licking my energy to
indentity.
On the wave of hollow friendship I crash, into
earth's tomb, some loose grains of sands remaining,
act adhesioned to reconnect a mouthful of paradise.
The sound of life, too bright, hidden spheres,
piled up to old lead, bone-crushing thoughts.
Independence, such a hollow dream.
In the corner, children play, on the waves of an
indifferent ocean, direction-less.
Author notes
Working on it.
Please tell me what you think
Comments
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Wow teach its awesome
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This is fantastic - I love the tale you have woven with your words ~ beautiful
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