The remoteness of silence comes in various notes, more like musical notes without beats, yet there is a melody in my head playing that only my soul understood.
It was more like a musical mix up of sorrow and sensation even when my world is empty. With no dancing shoes on, in my head I am fluxed into a swift moment of pain to regrets, dancing in a canvas art of sorrow, then with no permission as to what my mind would want, there becomes rebirth of ideas and plans for the future. More like an eccentric translational motion they all intertwine burying my consciousness into a lost world.
©Lukas de Mozart
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Short touching stories
Short Storyseries of love stories and lessons from mistakes from loved ones
