Unsettling winter days,
tired of the golden sun
Creeps up on the bare silent words.
Open roads crossing the bench,
walking toward the waves.
Shadows on the wall talking to me,
a pure conspiracy to pretend.
Sounds from the past and failure,
echoes of void reality.
Now its silent, smell of the burning letters.
Blame of windless hush above my voice,
I sleep over the faint solitude of peace.
A treasure lost in my darkest hours,
Dreaded silhouette of my silence.
Tears falls over the bosom, sips in
A crack, to ring the bell inside someday.