martes, 14 de junio de 2011

Me.

Me.

Can think of me…
Whatever you like to think,
the poor, the fool, the deft,
it doesn’t matter what you think.

I’ll carry the candle between my hands,
a light across the shadows that you see,
if you want to come then don’t fall down,
I’ll show you now the way it is.

If you seek for my mistakes you’ll find a lot,
if you try to give me a speak I’ll cut you up,
all you could ever say to me…
It’s been a while since I told me so.

On a corner you will find a few
of those things I’ve done and wasn’t wrong,
the bunch of lies I gave to make it work,
all I’ve lost inside of me.

And if you ever try to touch me…
I’ll reject your arms and laugh of you,
I’ll kiss goodbye and let you humble,
I’ll show you then to judge me good.

Under the spot of light beneath the candle
you’ll find my heart so pitched and cold,
all of the remnants of my emotions…
That still await for a single ray of hope.

And in the end I became just like the others,
I never reached warmth and lost the truth,
I failed myself and became a burden,
in the end… I became the way like you.

You can always judge me the way you like
and say that I failed in all my living,
but you could never say I never tried,
‘cause I even tried harder than it was needed.

The poor, the fool, the deft,
all you could ever say to me…
It’s already written unforgiven,
I just don’t care of what you think.

-Me-

1 comentario:

  1. Joooo rojito!!!! Escribes más rápido de lo que leo, jeje.
    Sad :S

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