I'm walking through the empty roads,
I've found myself in November puddles
I'd rewrite my memories,
But I dont really want to.
Under my pupils lay profound shadows
And they rise up like sun on my front
It's all about surrealism and existance.
I've crossed many people
Who were so close to me.
But the only thing I want
Is to reduce the self-resistance
And catch the hands. I jump. I flip.
I break the mirrors of pretendancy
And tear the masks off my own face.
But I dont really want
To crash all the fences -
I continue the road and put on my pace.
I dont really want
© Copyright: Никашта, 2013
Свидетельство о публикации №113110601163
Свидетельство о публикации №113110601163
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