Hellon, so it was you
You who invented this form...

Though in my computer, I type a story,
while I hear the clicking on my keyboard...

Mother said "the sun will come, open...
as white curtains sang a tune of clish-clash...

It was when the lightbulb in the room,
Turned on...

Under your bed, hides a memory...
a distant thought covered in dust...

No one ever felt this close...
I'll always be a shore...

You are too young and too much of an amateur
to be looking for clues where there are none...

It's just a tear in my eyes,
That breaks my heart, and makes me sad...

A constant poetical struggle
is to stroll through barren, forsaken stations...

Please, turn the candles on and pray.
Today at recess, I was mad...

We don’t want a war right now
We don’t want a war ever...

Where a river flows
between mountains of lilies...