Palms on my forehead,
my mind is a nuclear warhead.
Unstable, no way to disable,
push the button, cut the cable.
Evacuate the wounded,
send in the able.
A young boy dies on the table,
bearly got out of the cradle.
I tend to scribble once in a while, I found this and remembered when I wrote it. Just starting to get back on my feet after a pretty tough round with depression or melancholia, witch I think sounds nicer. I think very different when I have my down periods, I tend to just go with it and allow myself to explore these odd angles of life.
Even if it's dark and grey, it doesn't mean it has no beauty :)
If you want to see more of my pictures be sure to follow me @TORtalks
