No promises to keep
No excuses to believe
A window and a book
Black window as a look

Walls. Black
Anesthetized from emotions
Lines. Cracked
Burning into an opaque mirror

A knife
A trembling hand, veins are so naked
The sky
The purest eyes inhale the soul

Soul is a rare thing
Some are hidden, some are killed

Breathing alone and blind
No one lies, no one cries

Stay alone to slight
Or make the creed commits a suicide

A soul can’t heal. It dies
And if it’s strong, it revives