Someday, however, time- will end.
All of me must be kill, everything that I am or what I feel!
My dreams are no more feelings, they aren't real.
I bury all of me even I don't have the strength !
Like a purple gray flower- killed of a hand.
Reality exist only in memories and thoughts!
Because I don't have the right to feel or to dream .
Hide the dark that is inside of me !
In time all of me will be killed, without a breath.
With each passing day- something dies in me!
Even if the blood is still in me, I feel I'm not here anymore.
So, for what feealings and dreams are in me ?
The only treasure in life are our feelings...
- A. A. Popovici,