Omsk
One pill and it draws,
The life of this hill and the grasses.
Despite their greenness they can't contain.
One usurps in vectors...
Air that is been gone, memories that are empty,
Or had fallen down the slope.
Not stopped far from
The beating of my heart.
Opiates and the army of something I don't want to see.
Deep down in the valley with sheeps.
With the love of flowers.
Like ice-swords from all directions.
Like if I said it all but unheard of.
It is unlike silence, unlike life.
To stand at the top forgetting the thought
Of you and me - never be.
Todos los derechos pertenecen a su autor. Ha sido publicado en e-Stories.org a solicitud de Simone Goertz.
Publicado en e-Stories.org el 24.02.2020.
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