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Dana Skorvankova Jun 2016
..
He's never once looked in the mirror and yet he knew more about himself than any of you will ever learn about yourself. Because those times you were looking down in the mirror, he spent blindly sharing the harmony with his only soul.
*And yet words are not enough here anymore.
I saw him right when I opened my eyes. He was that kind of old *** who would ramble 'cross the world with no one by his side.
And if he found out there's another world out there to live in, he would quietly slip away and never once turn to look back. Not because he wouldn't care, but because he was just too curious about all the worlds and all the roads up there.
Dana Skorvankova Jun 2016
We lay there
I, the *******
Stranger towards immortality

Lying
In the confused depths
Of my fatal sensibility

One piece
Never understood
The other two
Crawl away for good

It all's been mentioned
Already in the written past
Of this world of mad kind

And we keep calling it
Different names,
Yet the same lines

Wasted words and
Buried sound

You saved me the day
You came around.
Jun 2016 · 574
You inside me
Dana Skorvankova Jun 2016
Mothers and fathers
Were you giving life
As you give a penny
To a homeless tonight?

I know it's now too late
But I must get it right,
Was one life so necessary
For this world at fight?

"You told me to say it aloud
Even though I was not seeing bright,
But Hey, you inside me,
Are you still alive?"

I'm all alone here
But outside seem not to be so warm
Is that what you say?
Is that why I never was born?

"I'm glad I do not fear
'cause You're on the other side
But Hey, you inside me,
Are you still alive?"

The wind and the ground
Isn't that kind I was made for
O' poor mother, don't fool yourself
'cause that is why I never was born.

Mothers and fathers
Do not give a life
As you gave a penny
To a homeless that night.

I know it's now too late
But you must get it right,
One life was not so necessary
For this world at fight.
“Once a poem is there, it’s always hard to remember how it got there. The ideas come from everywhere. Actually, once an idea comes, it becomes a poem pretty fast. It just takes a few times.”
Jun 2016 · 632
Divine
Dana Skorvankova Jun 2016
Quiet little Roam
Pointing out there straightly
Through the whitened window
she's been smiling gently.

" I wanted you to
feel something behind.
Something
I'd write thousand poems about,
and it still wouldn't say much
about what I've been fortunate to find.
Something
divine . "

— The End —