Oh well, a piece of Sunday poetry to brighten the autumn breeze.

Cooked my soul, fried my truth

I left for sadness, my only youth

Entered into deserted space

high and low, my grace


Corridors with empty trails

who to follow, no one says

left alone, a broken mind

All is gone, I am blind


Misty pieces of knackered past

dwell my body, soul and last

forever and ever till sun has no rise

all is dark

Posted by:Eirik Jeistad

Passionate Norwegian photographer in love with contrast and black/white. Aspiring artist and commercial reality shooter. Enjoying life, my family, my cameras and my darkroom.

Legg inn en kommentar

Dette nettstedet bruker Akismet for å redusere spam. Lær om hvordan dine kommentar-data prosesseres.