it is the end of the day
I do not believe in god
but I am on my knees
conflict with faith yet I pray
for my soul that is flawed
there I cried under the trees

leafs on my skin
feels like a beloved’s touch
stories of heartbreak
there all my pain will begin
waited for the call a bit much
longingly admiring a mistake

lonely in a room of mysteries
plunging into woes
aiming for a notice
isn’t it cruel to wipe the histories
sculptures of us froze
and all we have is a poem