poetry

Darkness talked to light once.
It forged an umbrella and under this umbrella clich’a had orgies.
Truth looked from the outside alone.
Truth would get drunk and have sex with sarcasm. Clicha would get drunk and have sex with silence.
And hate would record it and masturbate to it.
And fear would artificially incimnate
clich'a.
Who gave birth to red roses.