Magic


Time is not time when you see it.
It's liquid, and it's light.
You can taste it, and you can smell it.
Or you can just let it pass you by.
I hope you find a way out of here.
This beautiful though painful circle.
Insane as we are, dancing around our own thoughts.
Feeling free, searching for freedom
Finding it, and giving it away.
Beautiful though painful circle.
Where we write howls of sadness licking it's beauty as lollipops.
Where we fight pointless battles with nothing left to say.
Where we keep on running with our weak knees, but with little wings on our ancles.
Tattoed in colour so that we remember the shades that push us toward an unreachable end.
Life's just a game we wouldn't dare stop playing.
I know I'm wrong.
I just don't know how to write down something that I know it's true.
I'm not even sure there's anything I know at all.
So I play with the words, as I do in life with my own steps.
I find it funny, and healthy, and magical as that five letter word.
Poetry is the only truth.
It's the one with the magic.

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