I was often
envious of those that knew which road to choose, walking it like a familiar memory, while I would stumble and fall. I blindly moved forward. Sometimes taking too long, to pick myself up, bruised and scraped backtracking wandering and making up for lost time in both lightness and overwhelming darkness I would pray for a sign, a compass to give me direction, as the sun and moon exchanged glances But somewhere along my journey, envy went missing and now I often pass by those that knew their way- voraciously attempting to trace their steps back to the road they came from Searching for the wrong turn they made ragged blinded by their mistakes As I look back at the view of my trail from where I have risen after every fall and I see my bruises and scrapes that created a map I notice its key identifying pitfalls and battlegrounds mountaintops valleys and rivers that flow effortlessly and I find myself at peace.
could not keep a secret, though she promised that she'd try; her heart could never handle keeping it inside.
du kom med stormen
men blæste ikke væk
Du har glemt dine drømmes vægt
slettet dit navn og dræbt din slægt du kan intet miste for du kan ikke huske mit navn i en flydende rus ramler vi sammen i et sus hvis du virkelig vil ha' mig så kan du bare ta' mig
det er bare tomme ord
tomme ord der fylder rummet tomme ord der bryder igennem stilhedens tykke vægge ord man ved hvis betydning ikke eksistere fordi de tomme ord er ord der bliver sagt når venskabet allerede har mistet dets ynde og pragt *c.t
— The End —