Basnicky.sk

Who is there
Inside to wait
For an impuls
From my head
To find lost
Cover pages
Someone there
Afraid of light
Strange people
They are none
Grain of sand
Or press on chest
Stucks in brain
Straigh to tress
Cool field air
I sense on face
Everytime
I change my name

Still searching, trying to find out
Where are rest of mine true sides
Iron statue of strange man in deep dark
During day in the middle of green park

Something there behind the skin
Trying to get out by take in breath
Even you becoming more thin
Like an old man with blind and deaf

Seven years
Last one real
Feelings of them
Became here
I found way
Across the field
Full of mines
Standing near
Look to far
Behind sun
Rest the laziest
Cover pages
One is colour
Another dark
One is shinig
Another died
One is clear
Rest are mired