There are nights where I sit
only on desktop
and I write whatever I want
or at least what I get

And sometimes the room gets small,
a little dark and I hear my soul
begging for something.
I do not understand.

And the room sometimes seems huge,
the walls high and cold.
a perfect environment for those
who cry
for the lonely ones , for souls
who have not yet kneeled.

I do not know, I do not know
I only believe in my hands
in the fire, in my fire
and in the last verse.

and the last verse
says so....
there is poetry in here
there are feelings deep down,
There are...