memo-memo,
simply out of ghetto.
your mind is shaking,
everything is forsaken.
only ones that keep me going
further off till me is holding.
breaking shit that keep restrains,
seemingly I am disgraced.
optics-optics hallucofolics,
all my senses are alchoholics.
only ones that keep me going
further off till me is holding.
fundamental object is approaching
and you see it eyes-shut-wide-open.
does it seem or it is there,
question stands throughout your fare.
this is it when you arrive
to the point of big surprise.
all around you is so simple,
building blocks of Holy Symbol.
when you ask what will to do,
He or She will speak to you:
Thy not fault, what do you think,
It is pride that makes you sink.
Come back home my little child,
Eternal peace what you will find.
-author.
