The vision of the past was
blurred. The future doesn\'t
promise the utopia.
I stop digging
and wait for you,
to restore the trust.
Back to back the
ideologies would suffer. You rustle
the hair of unknown pain.
Nightmares hiss.
I will bite your hand.
Didn\'t call the stranger.
The reaper will play your game.
Cinders and clouds.
Nobody wins. I unwrap
my book and read your
face again.
Can you see me in dark?
I am burning.