Category : Poems

Sub Category : N/A

There is nothing good left here,

 Only sick bodies counting diseases.
  The souls have left our lives

 But we are still here, 

Filling rows with cold breath;

What is their meaning?  
There is nothing left of what we knew 

From the beginning, 

The cycle of life recycles energy. 
 A continuous movement,

Steps, feelings, looks.

With this evolution...

 No one could turn back.
There is nothing good left here,

 Only sick bodies counting diseases.
There is nothing left of what we knew 

From the beginning, 

The cycle of life recycles energy.