Hints.

I travel trough a street known so well.
And think of the darkness I’m caring around,
You see, silence is not a FUCKING SOUND.
It’s shelter and serenity, a step to divinity
my fortress.
The street lights pierce new holes inside,
luring the Inward to come out.
“Come”, says the light caressing my cheek,
lingering around my neck as a noose around the sinner.
But no.
I am not willing to contemplate
I am not willing to plead.
The gloominess and dimmed rooms,
I linger in
are hallow I swear.
Not a single color for daylight to share.
Illuminate the dust, dust is what it will be.
There is no candle I have not tried to light,
but what I’ve thought to be a view
is a fucking deceiving sight.
Let me sleep while walls hum my lullaby,
I find peace only in my own rhyme.
Let me walk.
Do not talk.

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