woensdag 9 mei 2012


I remember that skinny silent adolescent

sitting in the corner of the room

Reading drawing a chip on his shoulder

Retreating inside his head

Where it was warm

Cause the world outside felt colder


He wanted to speak but the words never found the right way 

to emanate from his mouth

So he always bended his head south


At the party the muscles contracted

the mouth ran dry

Facial expression stoic

Inside he wanted to die

Regaining his breath

Only after he left


Going through life can be such a lonely path

Such a lonely chore

Step through the burning hoop and regain your breath

There’s so much more


Theresa, Violet

I still remember your names

If you would’ve met me now

You wouldn’t recognise me

For I am not the same

Een reactie posten