Summer is on the edge,re-union for winter .
Leaves scatter away showing the corpses.

Sky is gray like the ashes of burnt paper
I meet new people; pictures raise.

I cannot see the glass :I am blind
I can smell the terror:I am ignorant.

Words are  their to make pressure.
Pursuit of death rises to heights.

I see myself perfect but they smirk.
I ignore my bad but they spot the light..

I try to be explicit : they need essays
I  am numb: they need me to flow.

I am loving it:I am clueless
They suck my blood:I let go

Life is the gas in balloon
Death is the sound of bullet

Words are their to make pressure
Pursuit of death rises to heights.