Imagine falling for an eternity. The offset, upset displeasure in the stomach, hands running wild, hallucinating bars, feet thrashing. Hoping to feel even pain, the last high wasnt the same as falling.
They are complete opposites, only the lonely know they are the same.
We lose connection when we lose reception. We fall when we sober up from the imagination.
We live in a world where pain is less harmless then love.
What kind of everlasting hallucinogen did they put in the air?
We lost ourselves to numbers rather than literature that taught us how to spell our own name...
It's almost everending never to start or to finish.
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Poetry : A King's Poverty
PoetryA description of a king is almost defined by the way there Kingdom is perceive "Perfect" Nobody knows that, the ruler of the Land wears two crowns with two different coronation, One crown is for his might, the other is the side he never shows. As yo...
