Tell me please
What difference does it make?
If the ground beneath
Is firm or shakes?
Do we get to keep our youth?
Or do we get to know the truth?
Do we get to live some more?
Do we get to live at all?
Tired of fighting
all the windmills in my head.
I rest now,
in their soothing shade.
I watch the world unravel,
all the games I never played.
A look in the flesh
And there is nothing there.
A mask of skin
That no one can tear.
Life divided us, one year each
And the exit is within our reach
Memoirs replayed in heads
Before we sink into our final beds.
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