Your words speak to me
They were never written for me
The feelings carved on the paper
It never had my name
but I'd have it framed.

But all I felt it was,
each lines bringing me to heaven,
and artistically genius
It was a nerve touched upon
so beautiful,
I envied the person
If only I will ever be that lucky
to have poems written for me.

The ones so full of passion
emotion, to be loved as gently,
patiently
where every verse turns immortal,
how could it ever be me!

-_-
I'm a very timid man within...
My BP shoots up when excited,
My breathing is heavy evermore,
On even thinking about loneliness,
Really, I know not what I can do,
Tasked with living life forever,
And a lonely life, that too, as
Lonely will be so lifeless.

For a long time, in a sure, deceptive consciousness, I too believed: Man is a central link in the courtyard of pearls, and his irreconcilable Robinson's instinct drives and drives him into uninhabited realms of ever-new adventures to guide his conscious and evolving intellect to his desired, achievable goals,

whose shores of Atlantis are lined with immortal familiar footprints. - In the age of long-standing eras, a “happy time of peace”, when a person could still have a secure retirement job and did not have to lie down and lie down every day; to hide the coming of executive executioners specializing in eviction, judges of dirt money.

With brain explosions in science, too, new nuclei proliferated and germinated every day, and if you could be a flame instead of an easily forgotten beautiful butterfly, even a bird could easily absorb your happiness - but did you even guess and know how long you could stretch? How long do you get there? "Because your existence, like your tomorrow, is Uncertain!" And the dragged everyday life pierces to the bone, penetrating to the barrier of blood vessels: Overheads and bills are waiting for you as commissioned assassins, they threaten you. - Do you still give up the happiness that can be achieved in return for ensuring your intentional security,

for you were a cautious coward and an alamus: You gave up and did not seek? Like you're a lost fly: You buzz aimlessly, your fleshy wings soaked with buzzing Kematok until finally the scorched resin smell of fly paper and the omnipotent human hand spread it out. Yet to rebel someday: Don't just tolerate that you can't be an equal party, just an emigrant, and resting in foreign conditions, - fidgeting

connection - and you have not been here for a long time Here is just silent, silent despair - Yet every day, as long as your body allows you to greet the first explosive rays, hold your head with your waist outstretched, your luminous brain-torch: Don't despair dust off many times!

Stubbornly, even among unbelievers. As a stubborn Sisyphus, do not stop, and in your selfish wisdom, do not forget it; if your career breaks at your waist, shouting heat-frog behind your back, your new firefly belief