Thoughts embedded in my flesh
the words that I can’t write
nor spoken off. All the contents
that you can read are merely just
a summation of the things that
I observed and saw in the reality.
Turning to the blue sky and wonder when he finally notice it turns gray and rain falls, everything will be soaked in water and puddles, I guess I will be too when I die, the day is so beautiful, it hurts that this wolf is not there to enjoy it.
Morning rain will fall.
A word that means a lot, something that every living thing has, the love you feel for someone else who care about us.
I took time in solitude, in sadness, in a dead and empty world that I could not love because I love you.
I wish I had someone to listen to me, understand me, do not criticize me and especially love me.
Someone to love, kiss, hug, feel …
Someone will wake me up every morning and see that person and the day will be special, if I made a mistake there is someone who will listen to my reason, in good times and bad will be together.
I wish I had someone who will mourn, suffer, even die or give everything just for that person whom we refer to as:
I would take my heart in hand and in the other; a razor and start cutting my heart into many pieces and start handing them out to people who know me well and at least do something good to me.
There is something strange and creepy out of my sick head talking, my conscience tells me:
Hey, would it be better to give hugs than bits of your heart?
My life is a four gray walls, full of tears, horror, suffering, anger, hatred and many depressing thoughts. Never had color, not a celestial or green paint, no, always worth keeping it all gray and I regret that I did.
The light? I don’t know the light, so long since I’ve seen that I can’t remember what color or how you feel.
Between these walls of my life there is a small window where you can enter a minimum of light, but every time I get close to it, it is increasingly moving away, as if the light would not lit my life up, like my life was destined to run out of light. Is that true? I’ll never know because they never come near me to try the light, for now it is a light feeling, that feeling of hope that I keep in my heart. That hope that someday I’ll go to the window to feel and see the light
The worst that can happen for a lonely heart, is loneliness of the soul in which words, gestures, touch and looks do not shed heat on the shadow that has been created around a noble soul who gave everything for love. Sad raw feel of how the past haunts and numbs the heart; I once saw the firelight burn in love and hate, in repentance, in anger, in pain, because at least I felt something inside. Now, I just listen, read and feels neither a sigh emanate from that sad heart gave a leap of oblivion. And words don’t soften, cornered, huddled, or love or hate. It is as if fate decides not to play with the sentiments of a heart and turned without discretion not feel the pain. He walks away at the first sign of warmth and runs in the opposite direction in search of solitude. But he knows the pain prefer to feel nothing at all. Mourn but prefer to remain silent. I continue to bleed but preferred to be frozen by the cold of his past. It is sheltered behind the farce that he wants to be alone, but I think you’ll lose even more. He wanted to tell her that everything will be fine, but only tears of frustration.
Only emptiness is what you hear. The constant and stormy silence.