In a field of bitter thoughts, where sunrises drown in shadows of silence
In a field of bitter thoughts, where sunrises drown in shadows of silence,
We are often surrounded by faces sculpted from the clay of boredom,
Heavy heads like potatoes forgotten in the barren soil of banality,
Perched on shoulders wearing suits of shadows, tasteless, lifeless,
And their lives slip through like a thin thread of sand in the hourglass of indifference,
Not even pity finds its place among these drifting souls,
There is only a murmur, a chorus of discontent fading into echoes of nothingness,
Beyond this landscape, hope glimmers, a flicker of meaning,
There, where masks fall and truth seeks its voice among forgotten whispers,
There, where dreams take root and grow beyond the ashes of apathy,
Let us not be deceived, for within every soul lies a story waiting to be told,
Even in the humblest hearts, there is a spark that could ignite the sky.
Copyright ©
Dan Enache
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