Jurnale

We are strangers in this desert And ironically, the divine and pure, A drop of rain is a tiny hope. Many cry, hurt, but they shouldn’t This desert should be an ocean? No, the tears slowly lose

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My mind plays tricks on you Simplicity in words Free the mind where butterflies The sweet smell of ignorance lies. Words of wisdom Bring no meaning The truth of whom, Who ever grieves by

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Nu vreau să zbor, De ce să mor? Fiecare gând năucitor Mă gâdilă fermecător. Nu te mai ascunde, E doar o foaie, Nici Ketch nu vine, Ești mic, ți frică, doare. Dar vreau, doresc. Nu zice:

MCMarlena Culi

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