Nice blanka,but I see a word error in your poem...seems to recieve your real life...though...you do seem to contiue regardless very strong man.
Ave...today I realized that I died with the blood of shiva running through my viens.
Hindu....Shrines to a GOD of carnation....
My pockets are warm because I hide my needed hands in them with passive gesture....
A poor mans hands are firm....
I carried a walking stick the day I died...and used it as a blind man.....but a blind man that didn't know himself..
no one knows themselve better than a blindman...
Sense I have real sight I stared at the sea in the sky wishing it would rain pruple....breathing at the sky righting my name in the air with my breath.....
Seeing only Red through my malicious colorblindness....so when it rains for me i see the blood of the virgin mary...
Mellow shades of blue cruised through my mind and for a moment I was in Nirvana....
Was my nirvana in the skies...?
I smirked...as if I new of my own awakening...
And in this golden Age of sin...there isn't much to smile about...
Broken smiles...with broken christian dreams...
So when you lose your dream you die...
I don't dream anymore...
That's why I think I'm dead...
Edited By SBYRD5 on 1093482521
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