Powidoki
Added 2022-08-01 13:15:45 +0000 UTCPanic.
Turmoil.
Bustle.
There is no visibility.
There is no air.
There is no escape.
Those who fly.
Those who run.
Those who cripple.
But also those who stand still with roots reaching deep.
And only the rest of vanishing energies wander amongst the scent of burnouts, the scent of deaths.
Or few tiny survivors, who lost everything and everyone. Who don't sing anymore, don't warn of impending danger. With incomprehension in their hearts, with emptiness in their eyes. They try to understand, to find themselves, to live.
Comments
These are beautiful
Adam Scott
2022-08-01 17:42:50 +0000 UTC
