Instagram is your Tombstone?.

Wind from the east

you must be calling me

through metals after metals

I feel you through the crack

of metals

the beauty is replaced by

a glimpse, a glimpse of a stranger.

words of history have gone to sleep

history, we failed you

all we have is metals

Rivers from the west

are you reaching me

I hear you telling stories

a duty has been replaced by distracted-s

go back

there is no story to be told here

barely their souls are hanging on

in this place there is nothing left to be heard

Stars from the north

are you falling

I see you in the darkest of times

you have lost your shine

everything has been replaced here

even your light

there is no place for you here

go back, there is nothing left for you

in a place where no soul is needed

how can you shine here

no one will notice

rest yourself above them

on the sky they shall look above

to admire, there is nothing left

for you here

they don’t deserve your glimpse

Thunders from the south

there is nothing left to strike here

they are striking each other

then themselves already

take me with you

I refuse to be one of

identical accounts, simply died

of

last breath

-

close your eyes until now is written

on a history book

I am afraid the history

will close its eyes before us

where are we going?

-

  • turn on the filter

capturing the nature?

does it / do you

look beautiful?

you think.

Coding my way to life

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