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About Me
best days are waiting
That the words I speak are not heard as a prayer and not repeated with fervor only respected as the only thing left to a man flooded with feelings, that half of me is what I hear, the other half is that callous. That my desire to leave to become the calm and peace that I deserve. That tension that eats me up inside, is one day rewarded that half of me is what I think, but the other half is a volcano. That the fear of loneliness go away, and that living with myself become at least bearable. That the mirror reflects on my face a sweet smile, I remember having given in childhood, that half of me is a reminder of what was the other half I do not know.
That the words I speak are not heard as a prayer and not repeated with fervor only respected as the only thing left to a man flooded with feelings, that half of me is what I hear, the other half is that callous. That my desire to leave to become the calm and peace that I deserve. That tension that eats me up inside, is one day rewarded that half of me is what I think, but the other half is a volcano. That the fear of loneliness go away, and that living with myself become at least bearable. That the mirror reflects on my face a sweet smile, I remember having given in childhood, that half of me is a reminder of what was the other half I do not know.
