The Depressionist's Notes

Lost then , never found , a silenced sound

Speaks to me and lets me think

In a time where stalemate resides

And inference comes in terms

With a life filled with void decides

A nothing to everything.

Flipping through the endless pages

The answers await in the remains

And that indifference since ages

It all makes perfect sense

Lost then, bright are that moves in real

Not in the infancy of my dreams

But in the picture perfect of that theme

That barely remembers , a stone came before

This melted fragment who looked into your core

And asked why ? Soon gone , no alibi

Transcending into a voiceless ocean

Moving through these endless streams

The questions died in the remains

For once they smiled at this indigo

Now embraces a perfect present tense

This is my last trash of the year. Thanks ... Ragpicker !