Turtles are born with imagination.
Then they scattered into the air.
With sadness.
It teaches us to think.
The smell dried overnight.
Walking by a flickering fire.
The faint breath of a dying flame.
And yet they sing quietly against the moon.
The red love lasts.
His shadow appears over time.
A blanket of hope and despair.
Made by uncertain hands.
But the stars led.
A troubled mind cannot bring happiness.
But in losing the mind,
Song of protest.
The wind makes you forget your dreams.
About a soul bound by fate.
Under the veil of despair.
Teetering on the edge of instability
