eniguima

Talvez as estrelas fossem companheiras melhores para ele Um cara tão solitário e triste Apenas olha para o céu esperando viajar para longe Tão longe que nem mesmo o brilho das estrelas podem o alcançar Solitário e triste espera escapar Fugir para as estrelas Fugir da realidade Escapar de suas magoas O amor lhe escapara de suas mãos Mas nunca perderá a esperança Ainda batia naquele peito um coração Sua alma ainda fervia Sua alma ainda amava Em sua mente queria estar longe de seus problemas Queria estar viajando para além das estrelas Para além de tudo o que conhecia Seu cora&#

A muito eu sonho em ser livre e amar Sonho em escrever maravilhas que todos vão gostar Queria poder ter muitos amigos Poder fazer o que eu quisesse sem ter que falar a alguém A vida não é um sonhos perfeito Ela é imprevisível e injusta Nem sempre gostamos dela Mas cada segundo é uma nova oportunidade Uma oportunidade de se libertar Uma nova oportunidade para ser criativo Uma nova oportunidade para se libertar e ser feliz sem precisar de ninguém Você estai aí esperando que algo mágico aconteça Não espere, vá atrás de seus sonhos Não espere eles se tornarem pesad

O que espera de mim quando me pressiona desse jeito? Não sabe que não sou assim? Há muito não me importo O passado está se apagando, por mais que ele tente me alcançar O passado está sumindo E um futuro surgindo Não queria abandonar todas essas lembranças, mas o que eu posso fazer? Apenas não quero mais estar com você Me esqueça, me deixe para trás assim como te deixei Não gosto de te perder mas se é assim que seja Você não me deixa escolhas E agora está de costas Deixando algo que prometeu nunca abandonar Esquecendo promessas de amor Deixando para t

I saw a beautiful star in the night sky. Whil staring at it from a far distance, Under the moonlight, I was mesmerised by its luster, Inspired by the light it gave. As I got closer and closer, I fell in love with the pulchritude, Of its flaming infernos. As the distance between us slowly started diminishing, I stood there still smiling, Thinking, "Someday, you'll be the death of me"

sometimes when you hear the crying rain you close your eyes and feel the drops slowly flooding your mind and cover every thought so that you miss out the time's breath

I know you, my child, so small and so frail. You say that the world gives you hell. And I see the marks you've made on your skin. You're sad and alone and you've cut again. Your eyes of despair have bags underneath, Probably from nights of overdose where you'd barely breathe. It's not so easy to hide where the noose bruised your skin. Though you've tried times before, you just can't reach your end. Perhaps you believe it's a cruel joke of life, As if the world is forcing you to live in strife. With the hate and the judgment dealt day in and day out, It's no wonder you've tried about every way out. But have you ever considered that, maybe just

I can see you, wobbly out of the corner of my eye. Lurking, dark and nebulous. I am not scared. Not anymore. Of course, when I look you are gone, hidden like a coward. You thought the same of me once, and maybe still do. You have yet to confront me though. The flashes of you just out of sight are the final reminder. You are trying to make sure I never forget, not realising I almost have. I want to tell you I am sorry. I want to tell you I was wrong for what I did. I want to tell you it was a long time ago. I want to tell you to move on. Because I have. You find the dark crevices, searching and crawling in like a spider. Hidden, but still v

Listen... What do I hear? For a while... Silence. The merriment of the village wedding today has ceased and lingers only in bright trails of paper garlands strewn across tables. In rose petals trodden outside a church their pinkness bleeding into stone. In photographs waiting for display. In smiles of those who viewed the joy who now sleep. I hear... their gentle rhythmic breathing merging into the softest night sounds. Listen... What do I hear? The echoes of mourning. The sorrow of the village funeral is there etched on a white stone, alongside an epitaph, on written eulogies caught in branches where a sudden wind took them. In sighs as

Margaret laid flat on her back in the grass beside me, resting her head on her arms. I was sitting hugging my knees, looking down at the train tracks from our spot on the hill. It had to have been half an hour since the last train had rolled through, but I kept watching hoping there'd be another one. Always hoping there'd be another one.        It was a picture perfect late spring day, the sun was shining, the sky was as blue as you'd ever seen it, spotted with big fluffy clouds. We sat in the shade of the cedar trees up on the hill, where the temperature was just right and the sun didn't make you squint.        This was our spot, it had b

Here I sit, crying at the keyboard. Or into my pillow again. All alone, wishing someone could reach through the screen. Wanting some love and compassion. "Yeah, I'm fine." All a lie. No one should bare my burden. The weight of words and mental degradation.   I can only hear my demons call out to me. Everyone else is but a whisper, blotted out by my inner screaming. I just wish someone could spare a warm embrace.