< Misha Campfires

It is under my hands, like clay.
Crying, says love forever.
I murky smoke, letting in the ceiling coving,
Watch for hooded eyes of a fly.

Fly crawling, clinging to the ceiling, - her lonely - hungry, scared to fall on us
. She - a winged, little man,
Which is not afraid to jump across the chasm.

Human bodies are sick, they are difficult to
Sin over time, paints the young.
We are the majority - beautiful facades,
In which no one was there from birth.

We direct a shadow over fences, -. Nonsensical marafet
We provide words of hunger, bear himself a mile away.
I would love you forever, to the stars,
But I am falling, clutching at the emptiness.


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