Thursday, October 07, 2010

Lonely corners
crumble & become tiny
there is no space to call my own

Overwhelming noises
magnify & become unbearable
there is no silence to call my home

Known sea of faces
rotate & manipulate
there is no place for love

This is the exact moment
when I attempt at stopping to think...

3 comments:

Benny said...

Sigh... an element of melancholy is very loud in this one...
Can we call it a post modernist condition?

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