The Peak Of Calamity

Reaching deep inside to find something that I no longer dispise.

I don’t remember the last time I cried.

Maybe I am searching for a picture-perfect moment that is filled with a thousand words. Some think I am in search of a flawless world.

Don’t be suprised that I am, don’t be suprised that I am not. The mundane ritual of the flawless world would undoubtedly make it dull and in no way in need of perfection. Therefore, I find the perfection in the process of searching.

The soul knows that this can’t be the end. The soul knows that this life is a page in a Milky-way, a chapter in a Galaxy in a book of Multi-verses.

My words are poetic on purpose and if you don’t understand then you don’t deserve it. My mind is filled with lines and rhymes that flow and intertwine beyond the moment and time.

I am the Hannibal Lectar of poetry sending the lambs to the silence, clear is the time Chianti and Fava beans and this is my Design.


The Silence Of The Lambs

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Poetry

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