Between of Ruins

I am tripping between of ruins
it stopping and blowing again undecided winds.
Screaming on my head a crow,
does it call my disaster? Or,
warning me....
It cannot talking that, how
can I know?.
I am tripping between of ruins
outside blowing undecided winds..
Street has been singing its song
with pell-mell,
Dustbins full.
How many people even eats,
all the same hungry soul..
First, where from
had I begun to travel?
How many days
how many months, maybe year,
anymore I don't know.
I don't know anymore
where's paradise, where's hell...

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