terça-feira, 24 de fevereiro de 2009

I was just trying to... what?

Just gotta know what else is there to be known. Because I don't understand how much can a person lie. Just silly, just so selfish, so self-centered.
Dreaming about people I don't know, trying to understand the people I know. And all that people tell me. Of course it's my problem, and of course it's self inflicted pain. Because being pulled down is something I'm used to. It's what's known. And I fear the unkown, the what's yet to come.
Cheio de marcas. Oh, yeah, slumdog millionaire. We all have our bruises and scars.
But don't blame them on me. It's not my fault, and yes, it's your problem. Not mine. It was never mine. Will you ever realize?
No sunshine, no happiness, just loneliness. An empty screaming sound that never stops.
And oh I love you blah blah blah it's just words some scraming maniac can shout out of his window late at night.
You are a 5 year old. Still. And I'm truly sorry, but I'm not your mommy.

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