Silence
Echoed buildings, empty walls,no pictures, paint or anyone showing interest;
Somewhere water springs from a source
and you hear it mildly through the open window;
And there's silence, like you've never heard before,
no one tiring you, no expectations,
no explanations to give, and no analyzing,
unless by old, old men who look at you
from above the ceiling (their hiding place) -
they don't stare, no that's rude -
they study your behaviour patterns
and your head that stays up,
your eyes that start to turn down
to the floor, empty, empty -
once so desirable, yet all of a sudden cursed;
But dreams are free and don't cost any,
unless to those who're excluded in the process,
of chasing clouds and rainy moments;
Caring until you can't show happiness towards the sun,
then they run back to their houses,
leaving you with your nerves circling on their toes,
empty in the head, not feeling a thing,
but sadness is the best push back towards your fate.
No annoying standards, or performances
that everyone has seen a million times,
no dramas poisoning the night,
and no people, most importantly no people!
Empty, empty. Where's that building,
that could give us rest, without any one noticing
our absence, no offences, and no screams,
just an empty building with empty walls,
no pictures, paint or anyone showing interest..
Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 795 times
Written on 2007-05-01 at 14:06
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