sunnuntai 20. syyskuuta 2015

Of sense or not

My mind always beats the feeling beaten up,
I secretly love you
to no avail. longing for a moment
always the voice of reason comes from within
the murder. Wish you were to me like
the air that is easy to breathe,
easy as childhood before.
I write this story
passing the long hours of the night.
You slip into the world
tattooed on track as it is the soul closed.
I would so hard to grow
adhere to the flanks, as Virginia creeper.
The world is made of only the brave
For, it is not a place of shy and not
only beauties.

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