Do you hear me?
Come closer
Let the wind whisper something,
Something mournful
I'm paralyzed,
But I can still breathe and blink
"What do you see?"
Gleam, just light
The heat of the bullet,
The warmth in my head
The pain in my heart

Why it feels like frigid?
Am I holding something?
I can't remember anything

Few minutes left

Do you hear me?
Come closer
I have something to say
It's a part of my bucket list,
Yet I'm afraid anyway
More than death or quietus
Let the wind whisper something,
Something ballistic
I'm tired,
But still I want to fight
"What do you want?"
Calmness, Love and Silence
I want to sleep

Let my blood be the design,
To my unpainted affection
Before I accept my incautious decision

Few seconds left

Do you still hear me?
Come closer please
If the wind blows harder,
I want you to know that I'm shouting something
Something surreptitious
Get my gun out off my hand
Then get me a good pillow and a neat blanket
"What do you want to say?"
Goodnight my lo...

I **** at this.

A  *fool rendered hopeless with just one stroke.
All the years of conditioning gone to waste.
And all you had to do was smile.

And you did.

***** your eyes

The poor get poorer,
The rich get richer.
           In some cases it’s a debate
             harsh situations Fluctuate
When money speaks, power escalates.

Sometimes…
The poor gets tougher,
The rich gets fragile against danger.

Often times…
Harsh situations make us stronger,
Easy life makes us weaker.

More Structure, Bald Nature.
Intelligences without a Heart of Conscience.
Lost in the battle of Negligence.

From deep, again giant flares arise
"Oh Alex! Don't expect please for a surprise!"
Doors locked, preparing for a ride
My Best Man still sleeping outside
I don't have a cake nor a nine-shaped candle,
Even balloons or a new leather
Instead, they bought me flowers for my new garden
Then I saw a black limousine from a distant in my window
Yet my Dad is still asleep!
Just waiting for the sound of beep
I guess, We'll be going to a gothic party or near by the shore
I'm not planning to bring my umbrella anymore
So the sun's shine will show the glow of my smile's core
Then it all turns into a dark milieu,
where everybody is seriously crying
Cheerfully I shouted "Don't worry! I'm not yet turning to Eighteen though!"
No one tries to laugh nor to smile
I gently ask my Mom about this after a while
She said that my Dad had won a solo ticket from the clouds
Having a long vacation above

Reminiscing it now,
Before I go to school by myself later
*"Waking up without Father, is like stirring milk without water"