Who is vandalizing this bench
in the garden of my thoughts, my heartfelt words...
a chain of incomplete
inconsistencies...
the faucet
drools non-stop...
Who is this man walking in my past?
I despise to defend this man...
The seas still remember me
in their foaming mouths...
Exercise the justice
do not bastardize the justice...
A writer not only writes what the writer feels but the writer can also feel what the writer writes |
Being in love is like playing with fire you always get burned |
Must keep my eyes open, can't fall asleep yet, I'm widely wake, but for how long? |