Thursday, 23 October 2014

Smoke and mirrors.

Into thin air, just like a black magic trick. I'd be tempted to think of a bad mojo, but there isn't.

And I breathe on, I walk with the outward appearance of life.

Did I ever say or act like I expected?

Without insulting the grief of those every Thursday at Plaza de Mayo, that is what happens with unexplained disappearance.

It doesn't heal but with a frank answer.

That is my side of things. What's yours? Have I not shown I listen?

No comments:

Post a Comment