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■ Pașadine în vers alb (73)
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- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - 2007-11-11 | [Acest text ar trebui citit în english] |
I thought I knew it all along, where it came from, how much it would last, towards whom it was headed, I was wrong! How can I not feel silly when mine was always like I was it was? And especially when I had it gotten out in the open somehow… that day when I admitted it was true. I’m a bigger cliché than I thought. Honestly speaking I’d rather sit silent somewhere above, invisible to your human eye than to utter what now came to be as meaningless phrases in a fairytale story where my character always hesitates. Still now, I have found that my nickname was not real for the one due to whom I ironed it on my heart.
Can’t stop asking myself, how did I get here? Right in this spot, long-forgotten as so it seems. Now I get to let everything flow for your sake. Did that so many times I came to the conclusion that it’s the best way to forget about yourself. I somehow have, although each time I remember it, a knife goes right in the middle of my heart ~all over again~. I want….I want to stop howling… I urge for a piece of “perfection”. Way too… low whereas my soul has been offered along with my metal heart. You sometimes do know what you’re talking about, but often it’s misleading for me. I’m here, but I actually am not. Friday, 09 November 09:50:26
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