Sonnet no 11

Barren to the bone

Turn a head, look out to the street
enjoy bricked privacy of solid glass
Noone out there you might wanna meet
no holding hands ever to surpass


It's kinda hollow in your deepest
shallow outland in their glare
Never knowing who's the poorest
sorrows keepers or the bare


Life has pummeld to progress
beyond badly yearning needs
No more hunting for transgress
behind stalled dreamers seeds


Yet your soul must adore a guide, a reckon
or its yourself you turn your back on


Verantwortlich für die Inhalte: Stefanie Böger · postmaster@tiffiland.de


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