deepundergroundpoetry.com
Stop
Roses, Roses, Petals, fall.
Raindrops, Raindrops, Silver, Freeze.
Time, Time, Moving, Stop.
Is this what they call and illusion?
I hope not.
I feel weightless, and liquified,
drifting through space.
Minds wandering and whispering,
terrible things about the human race.
My eyes no longer see,
my ears dont speak to my mind
either.
I'm drifting, a wanderer.
Time, Time, Moving. Stop.
Published 28th Dec 2012
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