Coming back to visit you again, bet it is nostalgic. You are my reality in translation, you are the words to my thoughts. You made me think in the first place.
Who are you? Do you care?
At 7 am, it's dark and windy. I am a walking ghost. The lights shine on me, catching me unawares, but not for long. A shudder. It's cold.
Why am I here?
Similar ghosts, similar thoughts, similar moves and similar steps. A repeat of the repetition. Nothing is new here. Words here have been uttered before. Tears have been wiped before. Hearts have broken before. Then why does it hurt again?
1 comment:
Sam Pal! how is you.. send me a mail with your contact details.. I promise to call
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