always late to the parties / he can't stop whatever is 'round the corner
it may seem too hollow,
like a notebook list on which text is unborn,
or it may make you follow
with the gaze that absorbed all the gathered mourn.
it may seem so woeful,
but you cannot avoid staring right into it.
in despair and in sorrow
orange light softly sobs over what Autumn did.


парапапа-пам, 25 стр

@настроение: unlimited suffering works