Are we really together


The way it was, Is more than half moulded, Sand has turned to black, No view of a whole, Looks like , To say "I am used to this" Suddenly a hope arises, Just a wind passed, So does it vanishes, Makes the bloody brain to think, Was it you or some illucination, So does the same floor lighten, And to wake up, To say "I Am used to this" Now shall i hug it, Or make a big move, So muddled and the shatters are down, A grin ,a smile so can never it be open laugh, Do i need a pschyo , Or i am over thinking......

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