I live my life according
To what other people think
That is my own tragedy
Their thoughts I can believe

Creating my own fantasy
Using thoughts I naw and feed
Raw meat without potatos
Uncooked never good to eat

Walking on this path is bare
Clothes do not cover these feet
Stalking on this path is rare
When lust and love meet extacy

We never ever rest our heads
When talk is far from ever cheap
Theatres say it's golden
Only silence is defeat

Ear responsible is great
If you really listen in
Like a shell upon your ear
With a hermit blowing wind

nice

Very nice, J

nice poem