The sound of a flute playing, it filled a hollow hole. My heart is dancing to its rhythm, oh please, do not stop. Dear mysterious boy, who hides himself under a black cloak, playing the flute as the group of homeless boys dance freely. Alive with night sky, the little fire and moon are their only source of light.
The music you play brings warmth to my cold heart, let me help you slowly break your stoned walls as even I know what it feels like to be falling every minute, into the deep dark world of thoughts. Nobody listens to the silent cries you make every night, they never listen to the drops of every tear wail.
It's impossible, they say. No, it's not. It can be possible if you listen, listen carefully. Poor Peter Pan was lost and unloved by blood.
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Eunoia • Book One
Поезіяcurrently - completed. ❝ 𝑯𝒆 𝒘𝒂𝒔 𝒎𝒚 𝒓𝒐𝒔𝒆, 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑰, 𝒉𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒐𝒓𝒏𝒔 ❞ Book One of Eunoia (Beautiful Thinking). A book with words dipped in emotions of a young soul. A book of different genres of poems and so on, but it's also just an...
