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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