@marcmire 18 August 2020

#Untitled 2

Us, playing our plastic instruments. Like a blissful orchestra of sentiments, The feelings groove to its timeless melody, She dances to tame the hearts of many. The night owl begs, for these thoughts to be free. My lifeless soul sings, to words can't be said in day. So I shall sleep in the heap of snow, where I ought to find warmth in cold, To be embraced by the frost, Kissed, to be frozen in time.