Our souls are ugly
moulded and split in some darkness
and the light they can no longer see.
Our souls are longing for pointless desires
emotionless and unbound
for they met pain too soon.
Our souls are crying
for they used to feed on light
and now they only breath in the dark.
Since the day the gulls flew away
we attempted to reach the same sky
but where we got was a little bit of vanity;
a little bit of consciousness
feeble tearing herself away
for the gulls were gone.
So we stand
wingless statues by the sea
envying her edge meeting the sky.
And I,
I used to raise higher than any land
but with every day that goes by
my soul is getting consumed by the gulls
at some unfamiliar shore.
January
2017,
Athens.
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