Spying its conspiracy with blind eyes.
A haven of sweet fruits and blue skies;
Scent of roses that reach you slow,
Too slow for you to comprehend
That you are lost with an agitated hand.
Looking for something to hold on to,
That sees.
Dead flesh, bloody vows,
Hiking up the mountain you were told
You had to reach, to come close
To something you can hold,
Feel, taste and cherish:
The knowledge of reality.
An endless desert of questions,
Questions without answers.
Silent voices telling you there is no way out
Of that square meter big cage,
Your defying brain.
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