i collect dust as iu age
and gather strength to breathe...
I feel no guilty
to let my ego burn into ashes...
what I promote is good
as well as nonsense, understood,
poetry is a sword and a rose petal
and i have hooked myself on a tight rope,
walking high above neverous autidence,
i have attracted your attention,
unique and versatile that you are,
relax your nerve,
Because it is a sin
to sing on your innoence
and laugh at the thing
that rules against your excellence
I grow lazy, and easy
as snow melts, and earth
turns into mud,
that may last.