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.
Toutes les droites appartiennent à son auteur Il a été publié sur e-Stories.org par la demande de Simone Goertz.
Publié sur e-Stories.org sur 24.02.2020.
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