I have nonreal sences,
Illusion is my creed.
The truth is hard of access,
So don't believe in it.
My future was declared
By neocoming Gods.
Locate my mind nowhere
And reproduce my thoughts,
I listen to synthetic violins,
Synthetic dreams, and such is all my being.
The tender smells of flowers I forgot,
No real things in my synthetic world.
The trial of emotions,
The grand experiment
To overturn the notions
Contained inside my head.
Define my deepest feelings
And build the dome of faith.
I search for keys to meanings
Through other time and space.
Synthetic World
© Copyright: Наталия Зубарева, 2007
Свидетельство о публикации №107010302177
Свидетельство о публикации №107010302177
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