
Looking at the trees moving under the gentle wind
Listening to the birds flying in the sky
But inside me I listen nothing more than noise
So many thoughts, they have even blocked my voice
And yet the birds fly.
Flying away, escaping from reality…
Psychological Poetry Society


Looking at the trees moving under the gentle wind
Listening to the birds flying in the sky
But inside me I listen nothing more than noise
So many thoughts, they have even blocked my voice
And yet the birds fly.
Flying away, escaping from reality…
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