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Literature Text
It is silence outflanking me every day.
It's the invisible walls everywhere. They do not watch me in a friendly way. I return these longwinded glances, an nothing is what I see. Consequently I refuse to make a halt, to doubt myself, I will not stay in front of them, I am going to walk right through.
You see, I am tired of life. There are no qualities left in it. I have no power left to share. All that still means something to me are the street lamps of november nights, these lonely lights, individuals uncountable, my quiet unworldly friends. Very soon I will join them.
It's the invisible walls everywhere. They do not watch me in a friendly way. I return these longwinded glances, an nothing is what I see. Consequently I refuse to make a halt, to doubt myself, I will not stay in front of them, I am going to walk right through.
You see, I am tired of life. There are no qualities left in it. I have no power left to share. All that still means something to me are the street lamps of november nights, these lonely lights, individuals uncountable, my quiet unworldly friends. Very soon I will join them.
...
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Speaks to me.