Fools
Forggoten by them ownselves…. just a bliss for a moment
So much could be said and preached
About so many things…
Yet we get stuck in so many strange feelings,
The spectrum plays like a mad horizon.
We speak of self-therapy that leads to madness,
Of written words we choose to silence.
And so, day after day, year after year,
We drift to places where no one waits for anyone.
But still, the irony of life… beauty lies in emptiness,
Love exists where no one expects it.
Some smiles are so fake… they could be carved from wood,
Or molded from clay… so what’s the meaning?
Yet this modest, unpretentious smile
Reaches the deepest, most sensitive corners of the heart,
And lingers in memory until the moment
When the brain’s hemisphere falls asleep.
Midnight again… and yet, memories bring warmth.
A game between yes and no… duties and responsibilities,
Rather a fear… of once again proving one’s own absurdity.
Yet here, it feels so warmly pleasant, maybe even honest —
In such warmth, anyone can be a fool.
A world’s clown forgotten on the street,
But two such fools together… something magical.
I feel like jumping and crashing… headfirst,
At least then you’d notice my desperation.
We speak of self-therapy that leads to madness,
Of written words we choose to silence.
With Love and Care
Darian