isn't it strange
we exist all at once?
we diverge, we dissolve, we domino
we combust, we consume, we concur
to the point of gross misdemeanors
coming to
we ask
(be it ourselves or total strangers)
the only question
that matters
all for naught? what of it?
we keep falling into old patterns
we patch up, torn inside
on the mend, yet we hide
our true nature
as if there were no future
and we cry, and we sing,
and we laugh, and we dance...
shake it off, be yourself
let it go, bad romance
...
we exist
all at once
for a reason
no doubt
once you find it
gimme a shout
24 Apr 23
strange
© Copyright: Тим Волков, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123042403379
Свидетельство о публикации №123042403379
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