A light that tells a story.
Screams of shame as they understand the truth.
A letter of an unnamed past,
then just freedom.
I’ve heard that murmur in my head,
where are you?
Moments of truth hidden between waves of time.
They were ashamed of what I am.
As I was.
In another city, a grey landscape of rationalism, of geometric shapes.
A train. It was whistling.
Give me a tear to cry.