Crowds shift and turn
Cradles light and burn
Just a single breeze
Takes away what I yearn
Places I surely don't know
But familiar for sure
Taking steps on soft ground
But nothing to show
Jesus knocking at my door
Hearing Poe saying nevermore
Prop me up on strings to keep me high
Never wanna hit the floor
Shadows like stepping on eggshells
Void and null; some days little hells
Passing by, passing through
Some may cry, but no one tells
YOU ARE READING
The Atrium
PoesíaAs the river of life flows right through, collecting at the delta towards the Atrium of my soul
