Curious are the ones
Who fly by on the right
Who choose fight over flight
Who bury me in troubles
And bury their troubles in me.
The ones who burn what is broken.
Whose muses will remain unspoken.
Who never feel the water rise in the well.
The ones that are lost, but never ever tell.
Those who fill empty spaces with voids.
Who corner themselves at the hint of a noise.
For whom the light will fizzle and flick,
With souls so captured in buttons and clicks.