Two souls floating around,
dissolving in each other
without a sound,
in a world full of shouts and noises,
forgetting all their easy choices,
like the sky and dark clouds,
let us brew a darkness that haunts,
that torments the sun to rise,
till ages we separate from love.
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It’s easy to float dead,
in a pool of mistakes,
to float till the bottom,
to be choked by,
filth of one actions,
than to,
to swim to the brim,
wash the mistakes,
with water of repentance,
this mucky pool,
that has drown you so long,
in a suffocating trip to the bottom,
to come out,
is not easy,
but it’s worth it.
Writings to Heaven 