To talk with you doesn't make any sense,
When your bloody words can hurt me so much.
An exciting show is your best defense,
Slaughtered thoughts drop naked at soul touch.
The bleeding screams are sutured in my soul.
Your silence in my time of torment grips
Your domination for a selfish goal
And inconceivable are my truth's lips.
Go away, give me a chance to miss you.
I'm your white prisoner in this drama love.
Between deformed walls, our jazz is a blue
Touch of our sky to reach the stars above.
© Marieta.Maglas 2010
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(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
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