Jan 6, 2017, 7:54 PM
bar scribbles
patterns in patterns
emotional chatters
none of it matters
as the mind scatters
instinctive desires
of unwitting liars
the genuine's end
none left to mend
you can hear
many a word dear
but what do they mean?
nothing, it would seem
like a waking dream
illusion all it seems
a beautiful mirage
or a ghastly visage
Свързани произведения
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