joi, 16 octombrie 2014


Tired to be
In definitive forms,
I'd rather be
Some kind of chameleon –
Color changing
Shape shifting
Vibrating chords –
My days, like a batter,
Molded by my thoughts –
I'd be the wind
To run away with clouds,
Then maybe the snow
To sparkle so proud,
I could be the silence
In the eye of a storm,
Or the lazy winter slumber
You'd never wake up from.

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