She in you.

Just filled as an empty paper,
with scrawls,
with no-law,
just a soul
with her nature.

Just a rapture of dreams,
a shade
a "maybe will be..."
what she feels,
can't be explained.

Can't by that way.

In that rock, she sleeps.
She draws in, in that rock.
Light can't stop hurting, she
looked in vain,
at every drop...
Did you see the rain?
She could feel the pain,
in every drop... That fell

Look her eyes...
as they bliss you.
Look your eyes...
as you missed you

In that way.

In your soul, she was born,
with your grace,
with no-face
Will you try to find her?
I know that you won't...

Won't this way.

Lyra Gothe,,