-s’s.
belittled by war
where it comes behind
it will surely go
-s’s.
-s’s.
ghost of mist and pieces and trees
falling delightfully like fading spring
ghost of loss, of thought, of everything
-s’s.
-s's.
Motaz is 93% there to reach his gofundme goal
While the wind carries the harsh fumes
to my mind, a stubborn message
and stubborn pride, I have
nobody to talk to about
all of this
it's nothing more, a hit or miss
starve my eyes before they cry
year after year they were in a war
delicate dark and black, give me no time to look back
-s's.
it’s my summer day, I hold you in song And sing you You were taught to not
you never have,
Nor will you.
I was all alone until you came to save me I met you on the daybreak
I met you on again in different places Met you in so many places, I can’t count
I can't count
-s's.
You’re not the origin
you’re addicted to leaving
and the old souls hold close their
broken things; clear glass,
porcelain and knickknacks
-s's.
Too many envelopes and people living in secret rooms
I can’t cope—keeping them locked safe in a dark movie like I had hoped
but nothing that’s sealed is worthwhile
say it when you find out and watch while it falls down
-s’s.
I don't know why, but
at least it comes in time
the bittersweet feeling of your feet walking away at dawn
picked it as a muse,
When you used to talk about art
And what it made you want to do
-s’s.