There is no moon in the sky or may be its too early for the shine to come pass the clouds filled with something from the pages of the wild dreams, some illusive lies and from some harsh scars from the reality.
On the other hand, days have been the memoirs of rage and rampage. The haul of the ancient past became the soul of the innocent and the tears are just the left over on the tortured cheeks.
The eternal hide and seek is stretching its arm beyond the doom.
Like before, as in present, will be there tomorrow….
The smile is getting weaker and the fake mask is old, dead but smiling its way near the ashes from the past...
