Some kind of hue, which articulates the passion
Translated in a forbidden, but artistic precision
Make believe or history ‘who knows’?
Is this a touch of determined desires?
Pain was not of the past, but of the present and the
present could still not stay until the moonlight.
We might have been…but the choices were ours
whatever that was heard with your own two ears
you were to bear witness to.
Smiles were botched by the admission and the acknowledgement to defeat,
but again the choices were still ours.
Things more solid than a rock, yet the choices remained.
The poison finger has always with no doubt been witness
to the many lost lives of our brothers young and