Olá pessoas desocupadas que leêm essa porcaria... (descupem, estou com uma puta dor de cabeça)... Hoje o nome do post não significa que eu esteja numa fase de bosta na vida... es tou em ascensão... e não sei se escrevi ascensão certo, mas vai ficar assim mesmo, mais sim pois estou com um calor desgraçado...
Não tenho nada pra escrever aqui... eu até tinha... porem minha cabeça começou a latejar de dor ainda agora... talvez fosse só isso que eu quisesse escrever...
Seja la o que for... quem estiver lendo congratulo pois... o senhor ou senhora é deveras corajoso (e desocupado...) Vai no absolut... la tem um post mais legal http://absoluttedium.blogspot.com
sexta-feira, 22 de janeiro de 2010
quarta-feira, 20 de janeiro de 2010
Ghosts follows me...
I am walking alone, by my own.
That was my option, I choose that.
Now ghost are tracking me down
And they want to take over my head
I don't care for them
But they don't disturb me
Maybe I just have to break a chain
And my memories are goin to get back to me
I don't remember my past
I don't have any one?
I don't live the present
Am I sleeping all day long?
I don't look for a future
I will die tomorrow?
I need to take my life back
But maybe I don't have that.
I do not choose to get born
I don't want to die
But I am burning all along
Since the day I was born
Ghosts are trying to kill me?
Or they just want to save me from my misery?
I don't know...
but maybe they want me to live, to avenge them.
{This poem was written in the middle of the night, Without backspace...}
That was my option, I choose that.
Now ghost are tracking me down
And they want to take over my head
I don't care for them
But they don't disturb me
Maybe I just have to break a chain
And my memories are goin to get back to me
I don't remember my past
I don't have any one?
I don't live the present
Am I sleeping all day long?
I don't look for a future
I will die tomorrow?
I need to take my life back
But maybe I don't have that.
I do not choose to get born
I don't want to die
But I am burning all along
Since the day I was born
Ghosts are trying to kill me?
Or they just want to save me from my misery?
I don't know...
but maybe they want me to live, to avenge them.
{This poem was written in the middle of the night, Without backspace...}
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