You arrange the thoughts inside you. They spread keeping the equilibrium. The balance lulls the terror.
Lonely figures make the picture look alive. They look like. Human traces. Pressed countless times.
Separately needs gather defeats. Dressed in grey the reds revenge stretch out. They are thirsty. Teachers to become. In a dead fairy tale.
Highly decorated turd machines are embracing evil. Lucky to stand out for economy in misery are proud. They serve many egos cheaply, wasting life expectancy from many innocent people.
You stare at. Hidden horizon. Obstacles you have learned and others you do not know. You tramp every step. You hold up faith. Religious. Little God.
Σκέψεις. Δημιουργούν παρέλαση λέξεων. Ζευγαρώνουν εικόνα αυτές.
Επετειακή επανάληψη. Χαρίζει κάθε εβδομάδα. Κίνητρο που δεν ξεθωριάζει.
