Tragedy and Weeds - Abstract Spirit

These faces so tired and pale

Were shaped with birches

Indocile but doomed to resist

To overcome the pain of loss

These eyes lose their colours

Showing nothing except shame

They have never looked at the sun

That is too blind to understand…

These lips whisper the only

Names forsaken in the depths of time

They confront splendid illusions

But they are not able to utter a prophecy

Surrounded by darkness…

Absorbed by madness…

Just moments…

Just fragments…

When a list thread is torn

When a last page is turned

When a last exhale calmes

A heart stops beating paralyzed

Depressed with nonsense of remorse

We ever must pay twice

Trampling flowers growing

With the sickly-sweet smell of grief

Epitaphs as secrets betrayed

On monuments of compassion

Absurdly try to describe pain

Where echoes of the past walk…