Poduwka-2

My life is buffer. Copy\paste. Your lips in salt. Refreshing taste. My story moves - piece in the place. To speak is really - time to waste. Not sure how come, but running late. Milk, butter, stone. Forgetful fate. I'm sleeping comfy but alone. Just like a sin I'm to atone. A fire, water, earth and wind. Lots of the words I wished and dreamed, Exceptions, vanity of mind. A truth my soul strives to find. Religious, silly, breaking, bad. My angst are sleeping in the bed, Abnormal joy, forgiving eyes, And stupid rhymes to recognize. Time that flies by, in bones and flash, Indeed are ideal to trash. But such a lovely lie inside, Rots in the pre