Seventy five

Through my open horizon
Suffering enters
Open wide
For seventy five percent
Walking through endless fields
Corn fields
I gather ideas to my backpack
I come back to the asylum
Locked in an asylum
I do time for free
I didn't do to anyone
Nothing
And when I'm in hanging mood
Hope shows up out of the sudden
Like a celestial guesture of God
Who plays somewhere on a promenade