Written by Pino-Omz


Prides in our imaginations,

our desires are miles away

taking journey in our misery,

our heart becomes our home and

our voices a covering from cold.

the sound of rebuke has turn

to our enemy and hold no place

when it arrives.

the colour of our countenance has

the adjustment button,

in pale when the sun is up

and brighter when it goes down

dragging our confidence into the dark,

we are all who we are,

we all miss the breast that lie underground.



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