Депресията е разтопен асфалт - мирише упойващо, лепне, прави краката ти тежки.
I think we can all agree that loving the moon makes you automatically a certified academic.
A gossip.
Dark clouds cover my inner thoughts.
I hate it. And it annoys me.
It makes me weak.
A whole space of excuses, laughters, expanding around my ego.
I have no time for this.
Twisted, I don't know where I belong anymore.
What's the meaning of this?
Who's interrupting my mind behind the scenes?
Am I still truly alone or will find comfortable place soon enough?
Nothing is harder than carrying four shoulders on your own, chin is down, body is damaged but still willing to mark more scars because I know it's worth it. I know I am somewhere close.
But when did I find the door?
I can't sleep and stay awake longer,
I hope for my very close end to come,
and then, I'll be living in my own peace.
-t.f.s.
Assignments piled up
Dull nights in a stressful daze
Menacing mountains
Има нещо специфично в това да изразиш емоция в изказване.
Звучи по-поетично , по-вълнуващо , защото знаеш че някой ден хората ще преследват думите ти за да открият мотивацията отново.
Между краката ти има нещо мое
Оазис който ме примамва
С приятните си на вкус сокове
и красивата си натуралност .
Бих отпил от младостта ти
за да видиш реалността ми
с искрен блясък в очите ,
и със страст в устните .
-iwlyfm
Will is not broken
Even through darkness
Through hallways of death,
Through rage and pain,
Sickness in vain ,
It is easier to open a door
rather than unleash fears.
-t.f.s.
I want to explore the bottom of your eclipse.
Diana, The Huntress by Jules Joseph Lefebvre (19th Century)
Love is part of my body ,
a molecule that I'm taking with me along with my loneliness .
For I stay forever young in
pain ,
I shall give freedom a comeback again .
These ribbons tied around
in a knot around my head ,
my body feels death ,
but my mind doesn't
feel the heavy thread.
In a world that doesn't forgive
I'm my own big relief
between you and me .
A "cripple" can see through shit
more than anything in the world,
even when I'm powerless
I can take a single breath
the way my hands
create the shape of a poem .
-l.i.b.