If I walk to tides Will it be a comfort ? You look at me Like you know my darkness. Like you know that am a singer of a forgotten empire. While I am the ruination, Not the song . I am a soiled chest Where birds sit to enjoy a nap. And then fly away, Criticising the lack of warmth. Am a stinking quilt, defending the theory of rain Only to be forgotten at the sight of a sun ray . So If I walk into the tides, Call it homecoming. Not Madness.
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Showing posts from July, 2026