Our souls are made of feelings

Who am I to understand

What is good and what is bad?

Life may give you chance to see

How to fight and whom to be.

 

We will fly to cloudy sky

Far away through endless time.

Our souls are made of feelings,

We may kill them, we are killers.

 

I am close to make mistake:

Fell into the evil lake.

There won't be any way

To get out of that bay.

 

Hardly have we managed dance,

Cutted over by the lance.

Heart was beating just in vain,

Sounds of hurt and voice of pain.

 

Eyes have liars always been,

We're afraid of what we keen,

"Such inversions are abnormal"-

I was told by Joe O'Connor.

 

Still the world belongs to us,

Oftentimes we're needing hugs.

Love is fiction, we are authors,

Our book is titled "Hopeless".