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Apr 2014
Life is merely and not more than just a test,
every moment passing, a movement of this finger,
a judging sense has taken part and will not rest.
The turning doesn't hesitate, and oblivious linger,
neither do you wait for what the puffy whiteness
has to say, never experiencing with such lightness,
never do you happen to have time spared, sad,
cutting hours, like cutting carrots on a cutting pad.

Overflown with dodgy flower petals, bursting all around
and floating somewhere high above the ground, tall
as the emperor with his gowns and words profound.
separated from the sky and earth, in between, I call
your name and yell and see, I scream, no sound escapes
like gladiators fighting, whilst this emperor eats grapes,
Having to belong somewhere, to prove or show and hone,
it is just a test, regretting that he kicked the missing stone.

It fled and now it disappeard in moving gooey rings,
its fledding with a flash, though harmless, drenched, it clings
on what the surface was but now is drowning, sinking.
What on earth was told, what were you thinking,
believing things as love and hope. I do respect the way
you live and carelessly enjoy the lusts of life I say
are a toy for a kid who doesn't like to play.

His mother is ill, his life infected by the strings that once
connected, family, torn apart, like gowns and words,
his father lost at start, events, that cut the frayed cords.
He had to form, with love and comfort, an alliance,
but merged with loss and despair, care was never his
worry, hurry to the gutter, saved the stone, and bliss
was brought upon that kid, the stone was just a rock,
and all he had and ever would, a test in life to mock

his being.
Daan
Written by
Daan  Belgium
(Belgium)   
244
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