sexta-feira, 27 de março de 2009
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- Nuala
- I come out of the darkness, a little happier than I went in. I feel better after putting me back together again. I pretend...that’s what I do... I make it less real... make it untrue. I use lies... to tell the truth... I find lies easier to believe then the simple truth. I must stop writing... These ideas that take me somewhere I cannot see, The words that leave me lost, only to have nobody to look for me. The idea of...the end. Because the answers are ever eluding... the deeper I go the further I fall. I’m not afraid.... not completely... I know my eyes are not closed for sleeping... but for wishing.