You look around to find
A mural of eyes.
Amused and judging.
Tired and questioning.
A heap of dust freshly cremated,
Now sweeped under the rug of ruins of your memories,
Has gained sentience of its own?
And all living are but dumb spectators.
......
You look around to find
A mural of eyes.
Amused and judging.
Tired and questioning.
A heap of dust freshly cremated,
Now sweeped under the rug of ruins of your memories,
Has gained sentience of its own?
And all living are but dumb spectators.
......