swimming with horses,
running with dungeons,
playing with dragons,
hiding behind a fake forcefulness,
like a synthetical lioness,
that artificialness,
fake greatness,
fake lustiness,
fake lustre, lying on them
like a mattress, or
with covered up, less
than what really up to
in them minds

distracter,
pacifier,
mixer,
moving the ******
away like a sailor,
distracter,
distractor.

the flower
holding on to the soil
with what's left from
its' root, lost in turmoil
lost most of it
lost to the attacks
of its own species
lost when it trusted
them the most, because
the flower didn't fit in

tears keep flowing sometimes
and i wipe them all the time
but this time
won’t wipe my own tears this time
will let them flow in their own
flow, oh so slow sometimes
so low
won’t resist my own pain this time
cause my heart is tired of it all the time
how long can you resist to the flow
of a river of sadness, fueled by loneliness?

The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.

When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.

If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.

But most people don’t see it.

Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.

The poet lives in two different worlds.

we were connected to each other
even if it was for a few years
it felt like a forever
before it went away.

we were connected to each other
with a rope that was
made of our happiness, strength, youth
everything that was shared together

what a shame that we all thought
that rope was unbreakable
like our happiness, strength and youth
everything that was shared completely faded away.

I see all the poems in your eyes

Lying there, alle, ganz

Es ist sehr einfach, zu sehen

When you‘re here with me