The two elders must have been hearing the footsteps of the death that was approaching step by step, as they were expressing that they were deeply saddened by the death of their friend. Even if they read an obituary in the newspaper, they talk about it. He's much more sensitive than that. Remus shakes. He can't come to himself for days. Their last conversation was very interesting.
Yesterday, I had two palm-sized pains in the back of my brain, on my neck, on both sides. Felting, numbness.. A weight fell on me so don't ask! There is no such thing as going to sleep so early in my history, but I was stuck in front of the TV. I opened my eyes for a while and looked. Broadcast is over. Day View or something. The TV is shutting down! I dozed off some more, then went to bed. When I got up the next day, it was fourteen thirty. ' He began with a complaint. Grandpa tried to calm and comfort him as best he could.
You've become even more fit today!
Ours would take them to the hospital. His mother told the boy about my situation. He also said: “Psychological. He has no brain damage. As his friends die one after the other, he gets discouraged. He's delusional. Get an analysis done, have a movie shot, look, what I say will come out! Nothing will come of it!” said.
Hopefully it won't!
You know, I felt bad at the funeral that day. My ears have been plugged ever since. Opened halfway.
Of course, the news of your friend's sudden death came as a shock to you. You were so impressed on the first day that I was quite worried, but then you slowly recovered. When the effect of that event diminished, the damage was revealed. Soon this too will pass.
This pain was on the right side that day. Last night, both sides were throbbing!
“It happens to me from time to time. Exactly from what I've told... From being suddenly unsupported, in a vacuum. At such times, my brain is always busy, no matter how busy I am by working. Inevitably, I think more than usual. I try to sort out the obstacles in front of me, as if with the tools in my hand. You're about to get away too. I hope you will have a healthy body and soul very soon! You didn't miss much! As the mind calmed down, the traces behind emerged. These traces will also fade over time.”
I read without seeing them.
How Does
Every poem you write goes through my heart, my smart
He can't see you
may not call,
I may not ask, I may not touch
But
Nothing can stop me from loving you
This heart will never forget you
There is such a beautiful road adorned with roses between two hearts.
No one can break that road.
I have a lot of questions that I haven't told.
If you want to share, I'm ready.
I draw strength from madness, from false joy. I'm not actually myself!
I am aware that you are not yours. Although I don't know why, I feel it. If there is anything I can do, I will do my best. It is certain that it will be problematic to be both very crowded and alone, and not being able to belong to oneself. If you want to tell, I can listen. I don't mind listening to you.
I will not tell. Very special. But I can tell you an incident that happened years ago. Have no doubts about its authenticity!
I also enjoy listening.
A young man living in a village fell in love with the girl next door. The girl also loved him, but they could not meet each other because of the insurmountable obstacles. Both are married to other people.
That love made the young man a lover of the people. He bought a instrument and started to improvise and sing. He couldn't fit into the village with his heart, he was wandering around village by village, town by town with his instrument neck. Over time, he mastered both the instrument and the word, and became a popular and sought after poet.
Years have passed. Both of them have aged quite a bit, have children and grandchildren, but they have never forgotten each other. Their love hasn't even faded a bit. They also meet with the family, and they often go to each other's houses.
One day, who knows how many villages, how many towns, he returned to his home exhausted. He looked through the door and saw that the woman he loved was inside, sitting with his wife. He entered, too, perched on the cedar.
They asked about the situation. They talked from there. “Even if you play and sing something, we listen.” said his wife. That the poet sought and could not find. He immediately took the instrument and started to say whatever came to his tongue.
The woman he loved listened and listened again. He liked his songs so much, and when he thought about whom they were burned, he envied them so much that based on their sincerity:
“Sing a song for me too!” She couldn't help saying that.
Then, on the tip of the poet's tongue: "And to whom is this all I have written and read?" He came to ask, but he kept silent because it would not be appropriate. In fact, his wife knew about their love. She was aware that all the folk songs were written for that woman. However, the man still said from his literary to his ex:
I always wrote to you! All of the folk songs and instrument that I have burned, but all to you! he didn't say.
She started crying. When he cried, tears came to his eyes. His wife also joined them.
He turned to his wife and said: Come on, I'm crying, this was my old dude! He is crying too that we could not meet! So lady, what's going on with you? Why are you crying?
I cry for you too! said the woman, trying to wipe her tears with the back of her hand.
That's it, my dear! There is no second or third person to cry for me. I better cry for my own trouble!
I wrote so many poems. The woman I wrote to her is also unaware of everything. She once asked me to write a poem for her, too. I couldn't say either, that I wrote hundreds of poems for him. If I did, would you care? Who knows! He would surely sneeze and pass away.
How did you fit such a great love inside?
I couldn't fit it! I would carry poetry! I was amazed by my fortune!
