Meltdown

Subnotio

Mitglied
'Meltdown

Look,
Look at,
Look into that blind man
In his eyes there shines not a light
His looks-empty-cold-inside
Forehead sweaty, glistening white
There beyond: images of fright-

his veiled vitality.

Who says he might (or might not)
Run away when he can
Escape his fate, this fatal ban-

yes, nature's cruel.

Who said that again?
He, himself

-if only he could speak
not solely had to think
knew not about his end-

My poor conscious-struck snow man.
 



 
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