To hide beauty
We grow thin inside.
What is possessed is nothing
But empty notions, curious trifles;
The water is thick with monsters.
If anything big were like loneliness,
This mirage would disappear.
To hide beauty
We grow thin inside.
What is possessed is nothing
But empty notions, curious trifles;
The water is thick with monsters.
If anything big were like loneliness,
This mirage would disappear.