It is an empty page
A lone actor in a stage
No one is reading
No one is watching
It is an artistic tome
An abandoned home
Nobody is admiring
Nobody is caring
It is a beautiful song
A dream that I long
No one is listening
Nothing is happening
A choice which I own
In tears it is grown
A time to think and atone
When no one says “you’re alone”
18010140140905
10:00 pm / 26.01.2014
In my Flat / Sunday
No comments:
Post a Comment