When the Shores of Lies cries,
“To live or not to live”
I hide under a blanket of a large size,
No voice, no noise, just a shiver of five.
I lonely boy in misery,
Hiding under a reddish blanket,
At the house empty, old, ruined, and no pleasury just treachery,
Blood on blood of my brother’s jacket.
Under the ground he sits,
For he loved whom I loved,
I the boy who commits and shall never admits,
For I shall never be-loved,
For I carry my brother’s blood.
Words of a Poet 