I am doing
Good
For just
A bedroom
Writer

A simple choice is a great certain
For her own sacred delight,
With love among all odds
And transparency among every refle
With death above usual peace,

I trust myself too much
That I sometimes forget how
To trust my pen.

Let me not seek before my faith is
When the buds are trimmed for love
Not for unusual traits or heart wr
And not for solidarity to beg or r
Some debt; which my heart will dec

There is this thing
It frightens me and
Scary at the same time,
They are tiny voices
Very small but weirdly

When Pavarotti plays
On a timeless streak
And emotions flares
To caress lips and
Tongues swimming

Is that still you sitting on a bul
Or am i just dreaming, maybe
Not a bull after-all or is it a ho
Am i just whinnying,
Is that the end of the road

May so be it
Life will be it
Love will also be it
Music will sing it
Rituals will be a part of it

When change drown us deep,
When red roses deceits to gain us
When bereaved our utter to reap,
Myself and yourself will be mute n
Silence will repeat over and never

When in battle
We know men
But not fully,
We know men that
Folds up their sleeve