I've lived so many times, if only in my head.
I have felt sad about everything.
I have loved so many times because I couldn't love myself.
Cradling illusion, desire
A terror that blossoms, like a rose in the soul.
I've learned to better get along with the pain
and the fear that even joy strikes within me.
But things have a way of reminding us
We no longer can say what they mean,
The meaning is in our heart, not our head.
Most of the time living life is a sentence.
And Time is neither a soothing wave
Or warm sand running through our fingers
It is jagged and difficult to grasp
and to run after it would mean to risk the fall.
May 21, 2014
May 21, 2014 at 1:57 AM UTC
I've lived so many times, if only in my head.
I have felt sad about everything.
I have loved so many times because I couldn't love myself.
Cradling illusion, desire
A terror that blossoms, like a rose in the soul.
I've learned to better get along with the pain
and the fear that even joy strikes within me.
But things have a way of reminding us
We no longer can say what they mean,
The meaning is in our heart, not our head.
Most of the time living life is a sentence.
And Time is neither a soothing wave
Or warm sand running through our fingers
It is jagged and difficult to grasp
and to run after it would mean to risk the fall.