High-flying sparrow
In the movement of time
Every time with flying wings and a mind
Landing smooth
It makes it fall
Talk to anyone
I do not agree to participate
Anyone's smile
beyond his cry
Nothing will be said
Keep moving
In the movement of time
of the nailed river
Curves and curves
Circling without moving
Dreams of tomorrow
Yesterday's losses...
Even to the one who threw the bait
Firewood or sacks
Dissolves and joins
Learning and standing handcuffed
without reason
Sweating on the hands
Days go by
neck
Even if you leave it untied
The neck is never stretched
Look at me quietly
My image is….
About the Creator
Ahamed Thousif
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I Am a Prisoner who Dreams of Prisons
The dream always starts the same: I feel the cold bite of wind gnawing through clothes entirely inadequate to protect from the weather and I realize I am standing in line. Ahead of me and behind me are other inmates, identified by the burgundy scrubs we were issued upon arrival. I don't know where we're going.
By Kyle Cejka4 days ago in Fiction
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