…and you think doing what you do is right,
hoping for the most part to be in terms with
the future called. No crystal balls, just with hope
and ‘whatever-happens-is-for-the-better’ type of faith,
you go forth. Make and rule. Make and ruin.
None of the world of perfect, you, me... her?
Her, never, but once heartbroken…my flowers
of love snaked on her or, have I watered places wrong?
Men would brawl for the glimpse, word, touch of goodness.
In feelings disarray am walking away from it all.
She asked why do I torture her? Was way to empty
to answer. What fills me, makes me live? Bewilderment?
First poignant days of detachment. Freedom?
Not at all. Go on talking to strangers, seems to
be an idea of value. Wisdom collective.
Need to stay tranquil to assemble my wits.
…for the better… blessed are the estranged
for them we are sad, for them we live.
Blessed are the estranged
© Copyright: Fern, 2004
Свидетельство о публикации №104062800018
Свидетельство о публикации №104062800018
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Thank you! At times I wonder if it was true me who wrote this lines :)
Fern 12.08.2005 17:29 Заявить о нарушении
Fern 12.08.2005 17:29 Заявить о нарушении
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