People

People, people;

So complicated and so simple;

They walk around on the solid ground

They smile when they are weeping.

How many souls has the Sun lost?

How many hearts got broken?

It is impossible to know who is broke,

And who is broken?

The ugly concrete will be my leap,

The solid grey sky will be my spine,

The boulders will be my shoulders,

Cold, wet cement will be my head.

And I'll walk in the shadows

through the graveyards, under ladders.

And I'm sorry, I'm afraid I can't.

Only flowers can break through my head.

They will wave In the wind, "Goodbye!".

Wind will whisper to them, "Survive!"