There is a place made out of stars.
When will I be able to go there?
It calls for me every single night
But I never know where I can buy a ticket.
I've never felt like I belong here,
This place is too crowded and too loud.
My soul is sensitive and so are my ears
But what can I do when I don't have a ticket?
Could I truly run away from here?
Will this place let me escape?
Why is so hard to leave when the stars are near?
Where can I find that cursed ticket?
YOU ARE READING
'Monochopsis'
Poetry'monochopsis' is, like the title means, an out of line modernist poetry volume. Some of the poems will be visual, some with lots of metaphors, they will be in my way. Motto: ,, Don't read them, understand them!"
