Slow (30/03/2014)

Silence is stiffening for a flower that is screaming

Darkness is bright for a child that is blind

Yellow and Red and the colors of the dead

When ember and blood emerge from the flood

 

It is the wind that picks it up

Swirls like a question mark that lost its dot

In the end there is a robotic slave that lives

Where dreams are made and the your are free

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