luni, 1 martie 2010


Somewhere tears are falling
in a place where angels cry.
I listen to the torment
in the echo of their sighs.

The disturbed visions
of a tortured dreamer.
Troubled laughter
from a haunted screamer.

Going down
a spiral stair
yet not there.

Echoes shattering,
falling down,
though deafening silence
is all that I’ve found.

Stone walls do not my prison make,
iron bars make not my cell.
A prisoner of my own mind,
I’m trapped within myself.

- by Cold

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