Here I am in my chamber
In my room full of words
Always searching for patterns that will give life to a line
My poetry is frozen though it's beginning to melt
The solid form is changing to the liquid of thoughts written down
Sentence after sentence in a language not mine
Loss of point no direction
A jigsaw where no pieces fit
I envy the writers and the ¨þõts who know
the way to the places were poetry grow
There is no harvest if you never sow
So I beg. steal and borrow wherever I go
If words were like music this would be a book
But this is not even worth the time that it took
Not even a novel just a self-pity tale
written by someone that always will fail
So very fragile inside
That's why I hide in the empty phrases
The Reprint of materials is resolved only at presence of the reference on MusicFind.ru
If to you has liked or my site was useful, please, add at itself a link :-))
