Nov 3, 2014

When I wasn’t there




Admit , are you're dreaming  of the mighty horsemen,
Slaves who kiss their chains;
Do you know that I am a knife
that butchers me,
and rides on the neck
 on each of your illusions;

And if you sometimes I look sad to you ,
I’m only coming back
where one shouldn’t go.


Sorry, but I cannot give freedom to anyone.

No comments:

Post a Comment