It was a surly heart that I received through the facades of this place where I could no longer feel the intensity or the port thins in Hummingbird.
The pavement.
From where I reach the households that were lively as it is, now is just a muffled lullaby, not wanting to be heard.
For once, I knew, we are the shambles we let them in we let them see until now we follow I could not find the dimmer.
The light.
Has gone through the running walls of this world the pit was so deep ghosts passing tireless and ageless lost for once again.
Ghosts.
From where they are reborn into the blackness where the void remains an imagination a fantasy where the minds tackle for the parallel, from which they waver and perish, an ambush.
Singularity.
Now I drift and ramble till I picked up the ticking second falling from the top from when it lost me, 'tis now the moment to be created again. When a soul is fallen, that is when he is found.
Vigorous colors.
Memories of warmth colors bringing back the place of yearning, back then is only a muffled lullaby, now is a peeking peekaboo! If uniqueness as it is and that later than mortal is now a vital colors glowing as it is — in the pavement of Hummingbird.
My last piece was a wreck and I am quite satisfied from this poem! :)