I looked for you while

walking through forgotten aisles

of the ever so quiet library,

the desolate woods,

the solitary streets

where no soul ever wanders

after evening falls.

The long rides I take in

almost empty trains.

All I found was nothing,

so I tried the

oceans of unknown faces and

its silhouettes of figures

(but you weren’t there too)

and I am sure I have never seen

a gaze quite like one

still staring from somewhere

in the distance

towards these eyes.

And I wonder where and

how far it is you are hiding

and secretly

watching me discover nothingness

again, and again, and again,

or if you are but an

unreachable dream

while so my many days

have unnoticeably been.

But how the realisation of my very existence
has grown like flowers, yet none beautiful.
I have somehow stopped knowing myself
long ago, yet I thought I did find me
just yesterday, but I assume I was only wrong;
For it was a pretending song.
I think of my childhood hours
proceeding to days, to years,
and how they won’t cease to haunt
deep inside of me,  screaming
from locked up and shaky towers,
far up in an unknown pointy castle
built of fragile flesh - a stupid body.
But, oh, to only have the key to these doors,
to find my breath again longing for;
to feel my heart once more throbbing for
that what I once thought was everything -
the things that now seem nothing.