Sunday, 20 July 2014

Poem: Tiny silk thread

your cheek touches the hard surface of the pavement

in your eyes there are no sparks smouldering

the spirit resists and it bites as long as it can

but sometimes we enter and we fall

under the grip of a zombie killer with dotted wings

transparent X marks the spot where greed dwells

only one eternal love rules the world

smell of money and stupid things

under the fingernails like a drug

all things we have now started as a dream of someone

but it's up to the generations

what purpose they will bring to them

can a tiny silk thread change much?

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