I hop on and off,
just like my mood does.
It's quite empty in sound,
only the hissing of the wheels
is present in my ears.
I observe the flash of lights
count them one by one.
Making me realise
that's not all I count.
Life has been traced
from number to number.
But it's the countdown
for a vacation, paradise,
freedom with no walls.
I wish the count would end
because, my dear friend,
my wish is to die
even if I don't know why.

no heroics, quite a bit of boredom
            fair share of rejection
          more often ignored and

if I’m a character in my life story
my role is listener, quiet glory

I watch, I learn, I love the songs
I add my verse and wander along

reader, thinker, troubled soul, dad
traveler, obsessive, probably a bit mad.

Blue eyes
And strawberry skies
What else is there
To think of?

Fuzzy peach dreams
And candy store robberies
I run to you
But I am unable to reach

Through broken features
And torn art
Our hearts are ripped apart

I try to forget
But still
All I can think of
Are those blue eyes
And strawberry skies