Somewhere this empty hollow mountain I can find a passion. Behind every door there is another door, one wih a lock so strong that not even my hammer can break. I''ve missed doing this, to write my emotions out, to feel like the silence at least might listen. I listen to the birds chirp, my heartbeats are being errased, not like gone forever, but they hide as a chord. Music has kept me sane, the same old songs every morning, but thats like life; it begins sunny and dry, it might end happy but with a hinch of sadness. Ive sat everywhere I could think of, to find again that muse, that passion, that soul Ive given some spce. It hides with the invisibles alongside the trees, it cant hear my name, but i wouldnt count on it. I really missed the memories that never died, all those papers that flew thru my feet, this is not a cry for help, its just like that broken flag, unwatched and lost. I have to carry my weights with no matter what, because this back turn called life will not carry them, neither your mother or father. In these recent days Ive felt the need to find, not a paper, not some pens, but love. Where has it gone? I swear i had it under lock, but then again i forgot it reacts as my teenage rebelions, The love for one thign has not dissapear and that is fro my on love. I cant put to words what I feel, nor i cant express the thoughts. My vacation from writting has condemmend my muse, my love and now i dont know what else.
The music has played low for very long, the radio plays only my tune, but i cant find what i search in it. I say this here and simple; I have no more to give, what else can i search for? New begginigs? I guess, but that means to start over, levae it all behind. SO much to reveal from my heart but too scare to say them, to write them. Ive never been afraid of this bogeyman, now i cant even sleep. Ive given up slowly. Wiht that sentence I can say im insecure of my keys to get out. I need to die, to be born again. I need that raindbow, that color that vanishes with the sun, because ive been dying to see one, to become one.
What do they do? They create a smile in this young poets heart. If i can smile with that, I WANT TO BE ONE. To somebody im everybody, so why do i have to be someone to everybody when im somebody to someone? Theres a clear thought to what we need; we need wings. Whats the problem? That they are challenging. I know nothing about what happens after, but who cares? I care for here and now, to me thats every second of life. I search for a reason, for a change, a rainbow, maybe even wings. If a man is not fit to fight for something, he does not deserve to live. Never ever give up, i wont, Why should you? Im going to find love, my muse. What are you going to do now?
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