Moving on gray and grayer
Walled with binding bricks of old love
Rarely has it found joy
Laugh of the few and tears of them all
Low is as high as low as above
Weak, tired, with no soul
One's the drill. Two's the thrill.
Walled with binding bricks of hope
I have found my stranger within
My opposite
And my synthesis
The final is here.
(Jakarta, 2012)
No comments:
Post a Comment