remains wide, my eyes slide.
I covered in the desert sand, and I can't remain any longer.
My reality is nearly nothing, so small!
I can't breath here, in spite of the fact that I still alive, dangerous!
They stomped on me to the convents!
I live in dimness, aimlessly!
My reality is nearly nothing, so dim!
Be that as it may, I'm glad to be here, with nobody alongside,
I can't separate the constantly.
The dim isolation taken my eyes, unfortunately!
I neglect love, I taboo love.
My reality is nearly nothing, so forlorn!
Verse Of A Self observer, [12/4/2019 1:37 AM]
SORRY MY HEART
I feel frustrated about the core of mine.
Who opens up in each beginning.
Who generally trust without uncertainty.
Who never gains from an earlier time.
Who thinks everybody is correct.
I feel frustrated about the core of mine.
HUNN
© HUNN (Yohana) Dec 4, 2019
Verse Of A Self observer, [12/7/2019 12:19 AM]
This evening I Can Compose The Saddest Lines.
Pablo Neruda
Compose, for instance, The night is broken,
furthermore, the blue stars shudder somewhere far off.'
The night wind spins overhead and sings.
This evening I can compose the saddest lines.
I cherished her, and now and again she adored me as well.
Through evenings like this one I embraced her,
I kissed her over and over under the unending sky.
She adored me now and then, and I cherished her as well.
How should one not have adored her extraordinary still eyes.
This evening I can compose the saddest lines.
To feel that I don't have her. To feel that I have lost her.
To hear the massive evening,
Even more gigantic without her.
Furthermore, the section tumbles to the spirit like dew to the field.
Why does it make a difference that my adoration couldn't keep her.
The night is broken and she isn't with me.
This is all.
Somewhere out there somebody is singing.
Somewhere out there.
The fact that it has lost her makes my soul fulfilled.
My sight looks for her like to go to her.
My heart searches for her, and she isn't with me.
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