The disconnected lines
In the insides of my eye
Keep me up until morning.

There's chaos outside
Yet, there is a perfect geometry
inside the inner walls of my eyes,
Drawing concentric circles of a dystopian kind,
Swirling like starburst,
My inner firework
Lighting up this dark
Inside my eye.

My heart is
debating in rhetorics.
The leftovers of sanity,
of those living to see me,
is lying in shambles
In my garden of Eden.

No wonder the Son of the Dawn
Was condemned to hell
For having a mind of his own.
And, in condemnation,
The Satan rose.

I had a mind too, once,
You know!
Just like a phantom limb,
whose itch remains.

'Read me with a song' – Nocturne in E-flat major, Chopin


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