The World


And it might be that my eyes are playing a trick on me

but the sky looks somewhat like a fading crimson red


And it might be that I am getting older and wiser

but I seem to be losing my voice, allowing only thoughts


And it might be that my body is weaker and tired

but it is resting in a thorny road, it’s resting


And it might be that I, myself, am in a subliminal stage of mind

but I am numb to anything else but your soul.

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