Restless.
The unknown and the very familiar knocking on your door.
Everyday.
Forcing you to have them make their way through.
You.
Breathing in and out, you try to be one with everything around you.
Wind.
Thinking the rain would be refreshing but today you can’t smell a thing.
Walking.
So restless and no control so having to surrender and give in.

To everything.
To everything, sometimes it gets so old to be dealing with the same things.
And not knowing if they will be what you hoped they would be.

So nice to just be able to be in the moment.
So nice to be able to share it.
So nice to have it all for yourself and not care whoever else is there.

Sing.
Breathing, or just making noises that you’re feeling like making.
Moving.
Not fighting your body in moving and movements in moments.
Cuddling.
Under a sheet and really loving somebody, their body.
Noticing.
And smiling and strechting, take a little breather.
Waking.
You know you’ve been through the night and there’s a new beginning.

Always hard and not very interesting and somebody will be taking your place.
Whether you’re rushing, stressing or forced to be resting.
Always starting over and over but oh, sometimes these moments...
They feel, taste, smell and look just so amazing.

And so you’re jumping and floating into the unknown or the very familiar.
And you’re opening the door.
Oh please, just open up that door.
I’m knocking...
I know you hear me.

I have died so many times.
I saw the light, I know it.
But I can't deny the dark.
Dying and darkness is needed to burst and make the light come through.
So I know the dark and I know the light but I haven't died enough times.
Not enough to be free.
Can a person ever know all the light and all the dark and still be white like the light?
In all this darkness I know I learned to love it.
And I think there's nothing wrong with it as long as it is right.
Like a darkness full of stars that means no harm.
Like a peaceful room to rest in and close your eyes.
I have died so many times.
So I know how to die but I don't like to die in the light.

Broken soul over and over.
Still expected to be fighting.
No peace at all or sleeping.
It hurts to be a magical demon.

Unable to escape the noises again so a headache and the magic is gone.
Unable to sleep from the discomfort and sounds, bed on its side.
Stuck in pain, stuck in feelings, stuck in thoughts.
Magical magical demon doing the most.
To fight off the ghost.

But nothing matters when everything is wrong so the ghost and ocd can all come triggering me.
Whatever, eat me, break my soul all over again.
Even though I tried to maintain myself in this plan.
Apparently nothing works so let me be a magical demon.

I stare at the moon, standing on a bridge singing.
Somebody tells me not to keep on looking.
Too late, I was already hawling, my eyes were already hurting, head was already burning...

Sometimes when I look back it’s all so magical.
That’s why I’m a magical demon called Syonide because I tried and I tried and I tried.
I just see everything falling and I only hear a young woman screaming.

A young woman who I was never able to save from everything happening.
So it had to be happening cause nothing is fair.
You are such a strong young woman but there’s nothing you and I can do.
Nothing to protect you or me from horror, terror and not being able to live but always be trying, trying, trying, crying, dying but not really, but trying, trying, trusting, caring, breaking, shaking, crying, flickering...

Magical demon taking Syonide.
Trying.