Bird in my Head

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I sit in a dark room thinking about darkness
I have a glass of blood in my hands
And a bird flies quietly in my head
I do not know why
I will sit here. For hours to come. And minutes and seconds
Thinking about darkness
All the light that I lost
And I cannot look around me
There is a bear which plays the flute
And I do not understand why
There is darkness around me
And I am the light.
And soon I’ll burn myself out
As I burnt my candle turning it into the wildfires
The ghosts play the piano
And I can not dance
But I do not know why
I can hear laughter and people talking
But it must be all in my head
Yet I do not know why

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It’s like the days are not even days any more.
Night isn’t night anymore.
I am not even who I was anymore.
The sky has turned into ash, it isn’t blue anymore
The moon is a black dot, it isn’t the moon anymore
The sea has turned into soot, it isn’t it anymore
The tree upon which I gazed outside
It is not standing there anymore…perhaps it travelled north or towards a dusty gloom
I don’t know anymore
There is so much dark now, I don’t want the light anymore
I loved someone once
I don’t love anymore

Hollow

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I was haunted by the hollow of my hand
What is in it. Why
I was disfigured by the death in my eyes
Who died. Why
I was shattered by the quivering of my soul
How did it happen. Why
I was looking at the curve of my lips
Which way did they go. Why
I sat with myself once
I danced with myself once
I dreamed within myself once
Who was I supposed to be. Why

Wisp

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Sometimes I walk among the living dead
And I die a thousand lives
And when I come back to life
I talk to them and I laugh with them
And I love them and I fall in love with them
And when I turn back to see
I see all these faces
Of people that I do not know
And I don’t know their stories
Yet they have told me everything
And I heard
But I do not know them
They are strangers
And then there is myself
The strangest of them all
For they have seen me
And never loved me
And never fallen in love
And I am a wisp they all love
I am a stranger whom I do not know about

Train

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There is a train that passes by
The roof of my mind
Where the parables of history
The present victories
And the future decay
Intertwine
There are no passengers but only travellers
With a destination which is far away
They sit together, huddled in
Far apart from each other
With the hollow of their faces
They gape at the door
When will it open
When will it close
That is a riddle… They often misquote
The steam engine bustles
The train moves
In a solitary path it keeps its pace
At night time the stories rage on
At day break worlds collide
There is a question somewhere
But no one figure out why

There is a train that crosses over
The rooftop of my mind

Why Things Happen?!

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Silent Observer

Things just happen don’t they. Good things and the bad things. And they have been happening for a long time. And will keep coming up. But why things happen?

Human life is whacked up and screwed? No. It is the people which make it so. And people will keep on making it so. Humans are trashed and what not.

Now for instance…nah forget it.

Why things happen?!

Is it written somewhere? It isn’t. We get top write for ourselves. We get to pick the words and actions. We get a choice. We choose. And we apply the actions and speak the words. And it all leads to things.

So things happen and we get to learn from them and talk about them…and forget them. So things happen because we let them happen. It is not like a super sonic waste.

It just is. We get a choice. We are choosers…

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