Sitting on a plastic chair beneath the burning noon,
Music fills the air like a distant, hollow tune.
I drift between the realms of dreams and stark realities,
Intoxicated by the mysteries, yet bound by sober ties.
Am I but a thought that lingers in the night,
Or do I truly exist in this fleeting light?
Sep 18, 2024
Sep 18, 2024 at 1:37 AM UTC
Sitting on a plastic chair beneath the burning noon,
Music fills the air like a distant, hollow tune.
I drift between the realms of dreams and stark realities,
Intoxicated by the mysteries, yet bound by sober ties.
Am I but a thought that lingers in the night,
Or do I truly exist in this fleeting light?
