He stood at the gates
with a shot glass in his hand
and the tears of his wife
falling from his hands
and he left everything he had
at home
with coughing
in his lungs
cholrine
and bleach
and the scent of hospitals
and death
and desire
and he can't fight it
he can't fight anymore
her faceless lies and her weak
eyes
beating at her lungs
and he
leaves
it all behind
pushing through the gates
to find
something to live for.

Like a parent raising a child who becomes independent but still cares.

It calms me when I’m restless with stress.
It gives me peace amidst all the chaos of the world.
It soothes me during times of suffering.
It becomes my silent savior — especially when I feel lonely, even in a crowd.

The deep, meaningful lyrics...
The mood-lifting tunes...
A singer’s soulful voice...
The vibe...
The magic created by instruments blending in harmony…

Everything about it speaks to my soul.
Yes, for me — music is not just sound, it’s an emotion.

Memory is a punishment
Forgetting is a crime

The language of poetry
is so much more romantic
Let's talk to each other this way
Let's forget the world
and pretend that all that matters
is that we forever stay.

L.C.

My love
If you don’t want
love and respect me
then let me go
I have no energy anymore
to argue
cry
fight
in the morning
evening
and at night.

L.C.

I guess what we had was to easy you
and with my love for you I dare to say
it doesn’t even matter to me, the hurt
Selfless.

L.C.