The pleasure of sitting on the lap of mourning
gray, dark days they
belong to me.
Guests faces
sallow eyes
the sky embrace pollution.
I walk through the darkness direction
seeking, wandering around.
The night they could sleep worship,
under the authority of insomnia
too much supervision.
Shadows are a dream of red velvet.
Impatient world,
Do I remember yet,
how my emotions can play?
To offend a confident view
off balance, as well as the way of peace.
I learned listening skills,
learned to speak on deaf ears.
Learned to be a doormat,
the vestibule in front of the door.
Large grief boots,
leaving dirty footprints.
Maybe the frost will bring home the pork,
lead doormat creates.
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