Desire had been an illness.
For it warped the minds so anchored in make-shift...
There are lines that cross the void between the...
and shape them to their fates...
Winged
days...
Draw a line in the sand
and watch it wash away...
Drama.
An irritating interference...
Confront distortion,
Calming tide riped to disillusion...
People come and others go.
Some betray you and some are true...
Moving forward was a dream
closing all doors...
In other realms to most unknown,
In dimensions’ one must ponder...
Choosing
losing...
Their little hands
one day will be big...
Grief is not based on numbers
sorrow does not require a certain speed...