They Won'T Wake Up

"Live forever lost the dead path and stand alone " S. Quasimodo Believe me I know the dead don't come back and never have gone stuck into my bone. I'm in mourning like a night and shaking like a gulf. But the home is cracking... My breath turns into salt on the glasses. No choice. It seems to see a finding path into the odium - a lonely one. A road of circles, closed. Forget about your eyes. They see images passed and flights. With the wings of dead. They won't wake up the little boy who fell asleep washed in heavens. The dead people choose.