Pain is pain, nothing more with that.
We walk each day without talking about it.
It can take years until we open up.
It took me this long to scream out this pain.

Every day is the same.
I wake up, go on living like nothing've happen.
I take one step forward and a thousand bakward.
Waking up have lost the meaning.
Waking up to feel more pain, who want that?

I won't complain when I'm dying.
Dying is a part of our lifes, nothing more.
We say hi and goodbye.
We walk and we run.
We fall in love and break down.
We're humans.

If this was a song, would you listen then?
Would you listen on my word?
Or wouldn't you care?
Just like my normal life.

If this was my goodbye, would you care?
If this was my last words, would you care?
If this was the last time I breathed, would you care?
Ofcourse you wouldn't.

Poetry are pain and sorrow putted on a piece of paper.
It can also be words without meaning.
A picture can also be poetry.
you're the one to decide.


Kommentera inlägget här:

Kom ihåg mig?

E-postadress: (publiceras ej)



RSS 2.0