The chest

The chest


  • We all make different lies to cover the bitterness of the suffering of life, hence our insecurities. We live in the world our minds has created. But if there are any fragile walls of lie fallen, we crumble.

Unsettling limbs,
mood of 10pm rush of "bad senses"
Resurgence of fake intentions to push through
the chest

Is it real?
Was it me?
Was me it?
What would I be?

Dream of lifes and wishes,
Pushing through riffs
Playing in accord with leaves
dead leaves
frozen leaves
after autumn

Symphonize with bits of excitement
are the fraile senses of exsistence statement.
The chest pumps with dead cry
the battle denied

Is there a battle?
Was there a fight?
Will there be any signs?
The chest pumps cry with questions.

unsettling limbs and everything

The chest