I would like to cry but unrandom tears would appear childish. Their reflection in the rippled puddle would be carried to the shore, carving into the sidewalk's curb a barren passage under the thorn asphalt, into the sewage of hope. I like to dream but the sleep is always ended abruptly like a tectonic fault, drifting me to a territory I never intended to travel. There, I am asked for a stamp that the mockingbird received from the eagle's claw's only.
I bought a ticket for a vehicle of transportation and I let it to be strayed out of my palm by the passing wind. And, it didn't go too far. Was picked up by a man that stopped on the manhole and he turned it into a paper plane for his kid. He threw it forcefully upwards.
