Young birds dream of faraway lands,
Yet not one misunderstands
That distance might not be the answer,
But allure from a gipsy dancer,
Poison to each who owns the fruit,
Be careful before it takes root
As when it claims your damned soul
The only thing left is burnt coal.
It’s good to know reality,
Tell it apart from fantazy,
But never let the illusion
Become a dark delusion.
In a garden full of roses,
Where each and every petal poses,
Few are unlike any other,
They are forced to forever smother
Their true intentions from the world.
Emotions deep down are curled
Fear, disappear and utter sorrow
Will they make it until tomorrow?
A peach and a pair
Is without a care,
But put two peaches as one
And it will not be much fun.
When mixing gets boring
You get to exploring,
What comes to fruition
In this new position.
Never to late
To find a mate,
Who’s willing and able
To get a new label.
It’s impossible…
This shouldn’t be happening…
My cheeks feel wet, am I crying? I am…
After all these centuries I can’t believe it’s happening right now. I’ve heard so many stories, more like legends.
We survived…
I still can’t believe that I can see the outline of the door in pitch black, because the light from outside is so bright. That light, it’s the same light our ancestors saw and finally back. The sun has risen again. Morning has finally come back to our world…
I’m a bit scared to go outside, but… I want to…
It feels warm, even from behind the door, it feels so warm…
My hands are shaking. Am I worried or excited? I don’t know maybe a little bit of both.
“It’s so bright…”
shiftingeye 