I find no comfort in the facts you give
The numbers of people dying
While some refuse to live
Adventures never taken
By free people, or so they say
Money is the reason
In these offices we stay
I find no comfort in the facts you give
The numbers of people dying
While some refuse to live
Adventures never taken
By free people, or so they say
Money is the reason
In these offices we stay
Then I scream
DON’T OVER THINK IT!
It’s just a dream
An empty thought that found its place
Refusing to let go of me
Ideas dying to be told, but I’m surrounded by deaf ears
So I scream
After all, no one will hear
The deafening silence within
(Poet’s often die unheard)
The editing changed the meaning
Like Photoshop changed the girl
But this time no beauty was added
No
Not at all
And you lost the original
It’s on a napkin on a floor
In a bar that you hardly remember
From the night before
Ideas that take foreign shapes lead to restless sleep
He lays his head ignoring the ghosts of the undead
…
She posts a post on Facebook that no one understands
“Why’s she so weird? Who would like this post?” They whisper behind bright screens, reblogging ideas simple and plain
He dreams of knowing her name
That girl in the coffee shop that looks too shy
They dream, of someone knowing their name
(I’m writing this half asleep)
Take them…those treasures I hide
Leave me with thoughts hidden deep inside
Without a passport I travel
To lands of my own
To a world that does not require
A paper or a big loan Continue reading My madness
Don’t try to save her
She is singing in her head
Trapping the thoughts you said
Turning them to something beautiful instead
Don’t try to pull her away from the heaven that you call hell
For you don’t know in which hole your beauty fell