Who said that words mean promises?
Who told you that love is forever?
I know almost nothing. Just time and distance.
I hide, forget and seek. The name of the game is oblivion.
I rest in peace. I fly in dreams.
I was once crucified. Where is my martyrdom.
How many times have you closed your eyes to your death.
Is shadow to shade, what loneliness is to solitude.
Has love always been an enigma and life a mystery?
Where do you plan to raise your voice.
In darkness or in light?
How to do you plan to raise it?
In a song or in a box?
When do you plan to raise your voice?
In life or after death?
Count to three and you will rise, my resurrection.
Did you rehearse your today-self yesterday?
Is your suit suitable?
Did you put on your smile or your grave facade
on the morning mirror reflection?
Is the mirror reflecting you or
are you reflecting the mirror image?
Did you have your first sip of coffee,
before or after praying to your god?
Will you sharpen your knife before
killing your desires or will you offer them slow,
painful death (the name of the death is waiver).
Did they teach you how to follow that path
or did you lose track of yourself on your own?
Did you tie your laces standing or sitting?
That has always been a fateful choice.
Which of the two do you prefer, a life or life?