I promised out of the hole, scrape inside of me and kept telling me, "one year will be beautiful" to everyone he said, "will be nice one year" and we started ...
Old friends, new loves, new expectations were biting at my door ... I repeated to Rachel, who deluded, he called me heavy, "one year will be pretty" repeated incessantly.
Love stung on my door, and I did not want to open.
were months dark, cold, disoriented, days it was light and would have been better to put out the sun. Sad moments, days euphoric for hours, eager to get rid of ballast, to feel free, no obligations or strings, without fear of falling and not being able to get up, head up with pride of who I've become a person walking Straight that he thinks is the only way to stomp.
clear ideas, do not look back, do not repent, something bad always comes good, thinking of me, in my survival, and there will be time for everything else, I wanted to scream, break the voice, refusing to calmly all stillness, feeling life flow, hitherto barren.
A vortex that fills my soul, I refused to let go of that stick that I clung tightly to the blackness of the night, a warm whirlpool, rude, pushy, danced around me, I wanted to wrap and take me and I refused , ran to hide.
The Vortex, lost strength, enthusiasm, the same force that tormented me now walked away from me, fled from me. And I trembled for a moment my house of cards crumble.
The quiet, always preceded by the storm is not expected, arrives bright and radiant, with desire, the illusion can to disappointment, months ahead of us to enjoy, to leave the roadside friction, roughness, the seismograph to blow again alarms those who live in a world of strong contrasts, opposites but soon settle down again.
This year has been a drama, That Ends Well
clear ideas, do not look back, do not repent, something bad always comes good, thinking of me, in my survival, and there will be time for everything else, I wanted to scream, break the voice, refusing to calmly all stillness, feeling life flow, hitherto barren.
A vortex that fills my soul, I refused to let go of that stick that I clung tightly to the blackness of the night, a warm whirlpool, rude, pushy, danced around me, I wanted to wrap and take me and I refused , ran to hide.
The Vortex, lost strength, enthusiasm, the same force that tormented me now walked away from me, fled from me. And I trembled for a moment my house of cards crumble.
The quiet, always preceded by the storm is not expected, arrives bright and radiant, with desire, the illusion can to disappointment, months ahead of us to enjoy, to leave the roadside friction, roughness, the seismograph to blow again alarms those who live in a world of strong contrasts, opposites but soon settle down again.
This year has been a drama, That Ends Well
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