Monday, 25 December 2017


How hard can it be,
He thought,
With his fragile hands,

He try to dug himself out,
Out of the madness.

Cracked lips,
Bruised legs,
Bleed hands,
Determined eyes,
The child refuse to back away.

To get out from the cold and merciless weather,
Freezing and windy,
That he still can't get use to,
Lost in thoughts,
Of the outside world.

Run wild in his mind,
Igniting his courage,
To move forward,
And step out from his lonely world.

But he thought,
He was doing it,
Do something to get out,
Alas, sitting near the little fireplace,
Alone, dreaming of an escapade.

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