When the rose gets gifted her own bouquet
and the trees start to shed their own rain
As the water becomes immune to corrosive lips
and this great confusion happens again
Where the silence is our greatest word
and no path to be travelled less
until everything ends in an antigravitational fall
no one would call this a mess
But as he looks inside, this edgeless mirror
a tear disappears in his loud, his cry
he sees the edge of the water, the edge of her eye
but the depth of the sea passed him by
Schreibe einen Kommentar