Unappreciated Generosity You give to a man a fish-you give him food for one day. You give to a man a poisoned fish- you give him food for his whole #life.
Stars Night. silence. Cicadas compose a lullaby. It was too tense. I had too run. I came here, no light, no judging glances. Waves lunge the mole, invisible. Stars, direct mazed souls. Bright as a flare, pail as solo. Cold ancient wood stands between this world and what after death. Should I fight, or should I surrender to the oblivion. My passion and desire- faded like fire... Impossibly, Infinite number of thoughts are running through my head, all those thoughts- afraid they will never be thought. Only heaven knows what would've happened to me If this one, little thought didn't come up to me then. Infinity, mold, and a brilliant end to my book. Since then, every time I lack inspiration, I seek those who are not to be easily read, the components of the silent trail, the unsolved mystery, the Aimers of lost souls.
The Voyage When his parents turned grey, and he couldn't stand no more the smell of decay, He got up of the ground, put back the bodies under the mound, and decided to discover the world. Back then, young and reckless, the wide world seemed endless. He then jumped in a car, he thought he'll go far With a pen and his mind, some paper and wine, he forgot that this world is moldy and cold, and no one heard when he said 'behold' because frankly he was still in his car.
The Folding Society There're too many people inside her house. Chaos everything's dripping apart. People is not her strong side. she was born to be hidden. Her laughter forbidden. The shadows- her friends. Books are events in #life, writing is creativity storming. But she knew that one day, She would have to obey The cruelest, the cold The tyrant- the force of Society. I want to change the last rows, let me know what you think: But she knew that one day, She would have to obey The cruelest, the cold The tyrant, the fold- society's hold.
Elegy Of The Bustle Those epic lights, Bleat farewell, A Pain wail from hell. Goodbye to those tend to leave, Goodbye to those prefer the sleeve. Goodbye they sang, Escorted by big city's orchestra.
