If you are the echo of a dream.
It's not enough, my dear, just think again.
If it falls from my eyes and the light of loneliness does not go out.
I'm hidden in a dew, when I'm not as free as the bird that hurts me like a raw berry, or the bird whose sawdust I hastily swept away like chewed words and landed on the window sill.
It's too late.
If it doesn't pass, it's my own.
Maybe people love love while incompetent people hidden in mature forms do not give the right to pass.
I started counting again in my place but back and forth.
If I am pushed, but I know that it cannot be pushed after I do not push, they also disrupted the chemistry of love, which I thought was untouchable.
A scratch mark on my soul.
My stomach is used to hunger.
Come on, I couldn't digest the lovelessness and it's gone, my dear.
Sudden rising sun.
An animal, emotion, or insect that suddenly changes the world.
Mine is not effusive.
It's never a purple dream.
Not a suction pump at all.
Especially the story and cover of the city…
The sad tone of the poems and the wind of autumn hidden in the wind, I am like a traveling dream or like those long roads that I cannot cross as the whirling dervishes wobble in my presence.
Look, my way fell on you again.
I fell out of your sight once.
It didn't fall, but the one that fell ahead of me is embezzled by tomorrow.
I'm moving on to love again, maybe people are hiding dreams they never had in the glove box.
The mafia of dreams will come soon, but my dreams have already been usurped in my dreams, and I have eaten the poisonous love of lies from the hands of someone I love more than you can imagine.
I've stopped asking people, do you love them, but I loved this world, which I own with my teeth and nails, more than ever, and I fell like a mercy, then I thought:
The only one who loves me, owns me and covers my loneliness.
Travel shadows.
Psoriasis words.
Vivid emotions buried in the mobile.
What have I not added?
Do you want the one who refuses the love I have added, or the one who insults my sincerity?
I considered the sound of loneliness as sacred as I did not insult anyone behind my back, and here is the road in front of me with endless longing, my fondness for love, and the steep slope while climbing is my favorite, the narrow streets and sidewalks of street, I think I lost myself again and while walking around the street from street to street, every time the heart of love beats that the city and the calmness in me suddenly appear.
An instant calmness.
Very different from my temperament yesterday.
The meaning of being able to fly like a bird, which I cheer up like a child, is to leave the gloom of the night, praise the peace hidden in the prayer, and still not fall, while leaves and sadness dripped from my neck into me like a giant stalactite.
What if I'm of legal age and not equal?
If it is to reject what and some of which is the void created by being rejected, then the hope added after, it is a world with ups and downs, whereas the conditions of tomorrows hidden in my axis.
Of course, I do not believe that the mortal world can be immortal, but I am declaring the immortality of feelings by writing, my dear and poor, in the heart of yesterday's majestic cloak of life and I weep with enthusiasm, sometimes depressed and sometimes scorching, I envy the colors of the sky and the birds that land on the window. Or that the morsels I crumbled for them did not pass my throat without them?
If a smile is put on my face and three or five crumbs left in my mother's warm hands, what would it mean without my mother anyway, not to enjoy those poor birds, but to suffer, haven't I experienced many times that a day without my mother is full of pain?
What I first discovered with my child's heart was the unity of faith with love, and my mother, who taught me to open my tiny hands and pray, and what I discovered with my heart like a bird, is that love and spirituality are a universal presentation, and my love and faith grow day by day without slowing down.
Of course, in my eyes, which I have enlarged as much as I have not grown, I have learned my lesson and my love, my days and life and my life and my life and my peace with it, in a hurry to reach my Lord and follow the traces and secrets of mercy.
What phase am I hiding in now?
Even though I am lost many times, I only know my salvation in Him, just as He knows me from the heart, where I pray as much as I burn, and my belief that a world as vast as I could not imagine embraces me and loves me more than I do.
What if I'm a color?
However, I am a wandering eye hidden in the belt of colors, while I am the only Light that protects and illuminates me as much as the Divine Light, while I am of course the only light that protects and illuminates me as much as the Divine Light, which I see with my heart, which I see with my heart and which I love, and which is hidden in my temperament, where the path of love crosses with the Divine Fire, or else it consists of a single spark and a single speck. What does my existence matter?
Asking about our fantasies is probably the best advance we will at any point take throughout everyday life and we pursue it as well. We'll all arrive.