The man in the sky

Your shape becomes transparent

Hands that spoke for you,

Now linger in this demise

Leave no clue, maybe tomorrow

Hope is one filthy bastard, isn’t it?

Maybe the day after, maybe never

You are bartered, material for sentiment

Word for word. You are not ready

My trademark is the wind. What’s yours?

Kind of like, a crying violin

The man in the sky takes credit for

Borrowings, these. Carefully spilling unto your sponge-like swaying

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Published by

S.K.

This right here, keeps me sane. You will find here, sincere thoughts mixed up with a subconscious trying to fuck it all up. I hope you understand.

19 thoughts on “The man in the sky”

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