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Just me.

Just me.

Thursday, 18 April 2013

About a Boy


The green hope
of a child of wonder
born under an unlucky star
verges on black

At dawn,
encircled by those who don't care
(so shouldn't be),
in a grey tonality of his circumstances,
he's a helpless giver of light

In the afternoon,
unable to preserve
the glow of a summer day,
he bends down
but
swiftly gets up to wipe off
the scars of disappointment

At twilight,
he grows his beautiful shell
to cover the pain 
of unbearable formless void
he's afraid he's become 

 At night,
all tension vanishes
from his innocent face
His wings're no longer denied



                                                This is for your ears. And this.