The Scream (1893) by Edvard Munch
He realized there...

No one stands for the truth anymore.
Coward’s necks are back to their turtle shells...

Tell me why flowers
do not last...

<<One should know of the illustrated book: "The...
They sounded so ostentatiously strong...

Your unsheathed thorns and
my laceration are why...

All the truth
is hidden in the moments of a bird silence...

Such a strange affair,
between here and there...

Life is a guitarist
who has never owned a guitar...

Clouds split where we touch,
Everlasting sprinkles shine...

You were digging deep
for flaws in me yet you...

When I write something
I make sure that I'm written...

Before the game of gamble, starts
it is already paid for...