Pacifyin'...

Meditatin'

It's Quiet Now.
Nothin' Can Bother Me.
I'm Sitted On The Ground,
Legs Crossed,
Palms Up,
Eyes Shutted,
Mind Wide Opened.

Real Death


Dyein’ It’s Not To Stop Livin’.
Not Bein’ Able To Love,
To Feel,
To Dream,
To Imagine.
Not Bein’ Able
To Make Poetry.
That’s Death.