We cling to words like drowning men to straws. But still we drown, we drown.
There are things better left untouched by words.
Where your pain is, there your heart lies also.
I am that which lies beyond time. Like a melody, which sounds completely only after the last note is played.
Tell me what's the difference
I have no talent. I write poems for myself, to think things through, that’s all.