Sitting,

Moon’s shadow stares at me,

Leaves are shivering.

The silver, pain,

Never grew up again.

Since that sunset emerged.

The one with, whispers,

With the first consciousness born.

Streets are deadly,

Peaceful.

Something keeps wandering.

Inside. Continuously,

Trying to find out,

Where is the,

Main plot, Significant sentence,

I lost the connection with.

All the creamy,

summer days, rosy,

Dreams.

Baby dolls, the smell,

Of grandma’s bedroom,

All the faint, warm,

Afternoons.

Far away.

Decades ago.

Where is the start,

Of losing the ability to,

Escape? The time.

Still did not understand,

Why springs become,

Hard to,

Endure.