There is another thing that the sky is covering up to, parallels are invisible strings that connect us.
You are a myth that the muses talk about, they tell me how far the stars that I wouldn't reach you and how I wander my hands on my brokenness. It was the traces of how beautiful the blue in your eyes and the memories of red lanterns lighting up our way home, I feel the terror of we might forget the sound of the eerie cold night.
Parallels are constellations in the skies as if we are remnants of history, Each night we wished we exist.
Love can't be the solution for all, I'm alright dancing alone, waltzing with echos in the halls
It might be lonely, but I am enough to keep me company
Stay away from me, If love would hurt, I'd love myself first Shut the door; needing it isn't a necessity.
I'll have the red string untied, free from the boundaries of love Taking a meaningless joyride, from dawn to midnight taking in the world so wide It's enough having a friend by my side.
Pas Seul - /ˌpä ˈsəl/ a dance for one person.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uyN6o_Eyfl8 I prefer listening to songs while writing. This song feels calming since I've been blasting loud songs this past few days. I also used this song so that I can write it with a tad melody of some sort.
My footsteps were memorizing the cracks of the floor, vines creep along the grounds as the constellations, they are the patterns to my wonderland.
Gold flush, rose blush You are beautiful in my memories and I unlocked the box of my dreams, wounds are deeper than to what I feel Stitched with the strings I tied to you, People are vines as they fall in despair.
decisions are based on forgetfulness the agony of the sick child inside of me i can't walk any further, i can't stay here don't want to jump in front of an express train
the image of my little daughter is present the way she utters the words "papa" and "hi" papa is daddy in german, i want to live on i want to die, i don't want to die in pity
dying an old man is better than suicide the strings of despair are the strings of hope route 36 / bolivia / white frost / toxic faces glaciers of doubts / silverred bloodstream
my heart is beating on 888 beats per minute battlerapping is a good weapon against depression been writing against the opponent called myself it is never about the others but about inner struggle
in long-term rehab, there are many psychologists, speeding through the aisles of responsibility around us are deep and darkgreen forests and hills we are isolated from human civilization to heal
i fear the day of my return into the city of money and sins the innocence of my two children is tattooed on my body how could i **** their images by taking my own life? right now, i am listening to the strings of despair and hope
by the end of the day, each letter will have become dust a golden lion with a twinkling mane is protecting me he is a disciple of god and thinks he is just a toy god's power is greater than every single human act
nothingness was before him and he created nothingness
I heard it from three stories above Candlelight sparkling dark windows of dawn A melody, murderous sounds of a dagger Brutal weeps of ripped strings in mourn The man haunts in song, in laughter Hums quietly, in his staff he banters With a violin he slaughters