you saw leaves
and the birds in the sky
they say you don't remember the music
but it still plays in your mind.you don't hear anything and still everything is what you hear.
the little spark outside
the laugh
the hope
or someone in the window that raised the handsthe hand was nice
with rings and the red bracelet
that is almost black.
maybe it was a little too hard
that time.you can try listen to those songs
over and over again
trying forget sth that roll over and over in front of your brainbut for what is all of that
when
when breathing is only bird
in the skybird
in
the
in the
sky
and leaves
fell down
YOU ARE READING
poezja o gościu w głowie
Poetryz roku na rok potrzebuję się rozpisywać coraz bardziej; równocześnie tracąc w głowie zasób słów.