05. Dezember 2018

The only thing is still to see, Is that outfit of that older me. It suggests i was the clown, and sometimes I still wear it ... movin around. My eyes still on fire, pitchblack like my soul. A rainbow of memory’s, forgotten to hold. So what ever the color or shade that I touch. I now know better, but better means that, and never to much. And while my body is fallin in a never ending well. My souls like a feather, climbing thru hell. But nobody will see and I will never tell. Just this few...