joi, 9 noiembrie 2017

Serial nonsense

your turn, my turn
your silence, my silence
your pain, my pain

we survive ourselves
playing this tiring game,
this understated fight

I believe
I am doing all right and
all I am doing is right

but then it rains
it gets cold
it snows

we freeze until spring
we bloom again
grow wiser

we lay on the ground
to become
twisted infinity

it is not easy
knowing that
there is no other way

no better way
no real option -
to leave or to stay

I think of it as
a gift disguised
as a difficult moment

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