Follows me while I
Travel at night.
The rooms that lead
One from the other,
The curiosity is
Long gone and
These days, I don't
Get lost.
The trails on my
Palm, that often
Grew like a forest to
Build cities full of
Castles, chokes
Out of weariness.
Like the paper planes
Forgetting to fly.
Often not giving
What was asked,
Imagination like
Broken street lights-
Sulks in the confines
Of the blinders
Of the past and
These days I don't
Believe the fact
That I'm a spy from
The planet Mars.
Broken street lights-
Sulks in the confines
Of the blinders
Of the past and
These days I don't
Believe the fact
That I'm a spy from
The planet Mars.
No comments:
Post a Comment