Hues of grey in my head,
the breeze sprawls itself over my falling tears,
the green trees standing in oblivion,
the birds sucking nectar.
the windmill is just ahead,
in circles, it rotates,
a souless mind, a souless head,
nothing less, to be dead.
hues of grey not disappearing,
there is no sunset.
posted by gary @ 10:17 PM
<< Home