Prayers.
On these tracks.
What was lost?
A life, stuck inside
a beating heart.
Rhythms that never
become silenced.
Horns are whistling.
A danger for someone’s
tomorrow.
Are you there,
in those black clouds,
brought, from behind,
in history’s cradle?
Colored eyes,
in a sun that receives
timeless shelter.
I come here,
crawling with rope
wrapped around
these wrists, these feet,
hoping to sleep.
You discovered your
safest place, away
for toys to play,
while another light
led you astray.
Fires, with kryptonite.
Weakness never
answered right,
while stones are tossed
into your reflections.
Modern Romanticism 