Stays somewhere,
little ashes of thoughts,
dawning in the middle
of some stray stars,
alone but surrounded,
by meaningless bushes
of burdens.

A walking thought,
starts running,
on some unknown roads.
irritated, hopelessly,
trying to escape,
from all the realities,
that caused enough.

A howling truth,
begins to kill,
every breathe in the flesh.
like an enemy,
of its own.

Hope, a myth,
breaking and germinating again,
and at last,
betrays us all,
a life stays with hope,
and dies, in hope.