I don’t know roads.
Only ditches that are left
I don’t know paths
only the weeds where
stolen innocence ferment
I don’t know highways
only cold shoulders
where a lonely heart dies
We could say there were
much brighter days now
if it would in some way
make you feel better
if hope will spring
but the grass greens
only from tears
that never hide
in pretty dances
of your last sight
these eyes remain open
not to fear or fright
only to see that which
will never be the same
in the perfect moment
of this silent movie frame

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