
Fighting against my mind,
fighting for the reason,
fighting against the time,
when I feel so alone and prisoned.
A prisoner of myself,
who lost the touch from reallity,
the thoughts is all that I have,
precios thoughts,
without them, I fear,
that I couldnt live,
one more lie,
because I wouldnt know,
if am alive, or a fly,
to the world, that passes.
I need a reason to exist,
even if they are just mere thoughts,
but more than thoughts,
I miss the voices of people.
|
Email this Poetry
|
Add to reading list





