All I wanted then was just a slumber
I laid on the bed, exhausted by the Sower
Numbness laid with me
What a mournful youth…
A hundreds of needles? NO! It’s too painful…
Wet sand? YES! Wet sand in my left hand!
Like a glove made of wet sand!
What a mournful youth…
I hugged a pillow, I drowned my face in
I thought of cuddling not only to my beloved women
I wanted cuddling to anyone!
What a mournful youth…
I entered the gates of fantasy
But I awoke by the sound of bird
Confused by the bites of the Sower
What a mournful youth…
~decayentivus