Two sides of one story

From “The colour of wheatfields”


The child that flies away, soaring into the sky

From love and happiness, his desire for life that makes his tears dry

To end up being astray, will soon be gone

This urge to destroy himself, leaving his body lifeless

He will be, now letting himself be happy

Wrong, is not an option I’m sorry

About the flower, the love and beauty that she is

She doesn’t need contemplation, hides underneath these lies

But he contemplates her and gives her attention, a fact we can know for sure it is

He will never hear the echo on the river, that he is not special to her eyes

She means it when she says “I love you”, untamed child among the other children

That is not true, no reason to be mistaken


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