And soon...
Every seed of words in my head, I plant on white paper
This morning throws away all the commotion about footsteps that continue to march, as well as longing that is increasingly noisy
I leave the lines of poetry when I get tired of complaining
In the past, the seeds I said were buried were getting dizzy
You can't get bored of love or life, just a headache hanging around
The poetry of living leaves is indeed romantic
Mantis flowers grow on my face
It's not a pretty face that binds girls
When I'm not blooming
Call it poetry
Are the flowers of silence
This night shows all the silence about the footsteps that continue to walk, as well as the longing that is increasingly carried away by dreams
Help me!
Keep me away from Moringa leaves covering my silent soul