they didn’t evolve as one of what they were conscious of two distinct people each has different dreams to pursue together they exist but it didn’t make them grow a brighter one, their future might be so let them be apart, let each be free
today, i woke up with some thoughts should i write or just forgo the day noises i heard of today’s punches are lifting me up from the bed intensity of spirit is driving me out away from the usual me
i saw a caravan of weakened souls heading to a point unknown with open hands raised to the heavens their faces looked tired and blown
from my window i heard the blubbering shouts of anger i could hardly understand an inspiration, a subject, should they be? paper and pen… an echo, be the draft’s body ?
when no dreams are left to dream no roads to tread and shadows to follow no hints of footprints to trace and track a calm sleep tonight is hard to wish for will the sunrise wake you up and greet tomorrow with a wooden smile a star-gazer in an angry sky tonight delaying chances is another time wasted dreams don’t speak when and where to begin dreamers wait for hell to freeze over
feeling the cold wind in an open sea of guilt warm as a summer’s heat i could never see where hatred was built
a castle made of stone at the top of a lonely throne people living in there can’t find a little love a simple, warm, and tender care
friendly a smile, sincere a hug can the utmost difference make where kindness could be plucked from anyone else down the road not from the one whose heart is locked...
i walked into the center of broken reveries befuddled and flummoxed, i shared a stumped image of the beginning’s birth marked moments at the spilled beans captured the past glories and shames with recognition or admission of guilt…
the green leaves dancing with the wind whichever direction they sway to they’re all hostile to my sentiments which exude from an empty smile, many have observed that i hoard a lot of winter’s dreary lonesome smirk …
Sobre notícias e política com um viés nacionalista, onde os bravos nunca ousaram percorrer e que não espere deste o obsequioso silêncio dos covardes, amortecendo consciências, desarmando resistências que só no fátuo da retórica da ideia, da moral e da ética é que se venera seu oponente evitando a sedição!
Triangle Writes... 