it's raining.
that's too bad, cause i was hoping on the sun to bring me a little taste of joy, of faith, of strength.
so like the big teardrops of the sky, my soul cry.
listening my Damien Rice's favorite album, O.
like the strings of his guitar, like the tone of his voice, my mind is suffering...i wish i could be the blower's daughter.
i hear my dreams come to my brain to then disappear before they had the chance to become thoughts.
i see my body spasms, i feel myself trembling...why?...because i, "me, myself & I", moi, "flaws & all", my alter-ego and all the other ones in me, are fucking TIRED.
tired of what?
of all that, and none of it.
i am on the green line, and this one can bring me to life or death.
opportunity to come back from the death of this world or to inheritate a life of numbness.
feet heavier than ever, cracked by my lack of faith and my abondance of fears, they don't work nomore, they don't go forward nomore.
so i'm here looking at the rain fall on my green line, trembling.
still alive cause i can feel the water on my body.
and there...i want nothing more.
the tears of God rinsing my soul, and my body not going anywere, no...nomore.
