Brother – K.B

Brother

 
Brother,
I’m 27,
Old like
A grand pa,
Tied by a hundred
Obligations.

Freedom
Is inner ;

Sometimes
I sing my song
To let out
Some feelings.

The word is bold ;

It’s all too abstract
In this semi patience,
Waiting for action
To come my way ;

Real stuff or
Virtual,
There’s a deep
Non sense to this
Shadow.

Sometimes
Light pierces
Through.
Cracks show
A golden
Sky,
All too sly.
Cracks show
Golden stars,
All too shy.

In this armor
You can’t let go,
Bathe in carelessness.

You see , even the flow
Is relentless ;

The daily orchestra
Starts at seven,
Humans seems lost
To me.

I need a woman’s
Caress
To clean the hate
At the edge of the
Heat of hate,
Symphonies
That never rise,
Gurgles that never
Let go of words….

 
K.B

 

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