This one goes to the real poets.
To those who decide to carry the world on their own.
To those who carry hell in their head and a graveyard of lost love stories in their heart
To the brave ones who fight darkness with darkness.
Tho those who the only answer they seek from a god is if there's eternal life for their loved ones, because they know there's no space for them in that paradise.
To those who know that suffering is the most humane feeling there is.
To those who loved and hated the wrong person.
This goes to Lorca isolated, hiding in a closet in New York.
To Unamuno craving to believe in something impossible.
To Quiroga drinking the poison of his sorrow at a hospital.
To Becquer and Espino for dying so young.
To Neruda for cheating on himself so many times.
To Machados' lost spirit.
To Marquez and his melancholic ******.
To Poe's tormented soul and his raven.
To Shakespeare and his Juliet.
To Dante and his story of woe.
This goes for the only beings who can live with a hell inside of them, and still manage to write heavenly things for those in need to read.
This one's for us.

'Cause if you wake up and it's still raining,
you can sleep some more.
And if tomorrow may not shine,
go out. Dance with the rain.
Sometimes that's all we really need.
'To see the beauty in the rain.'

Everyday I say the right words,
the words they want to hear.
And everyday I act the right way,
the way they always want me to be.
And they say I'm a good person.

But every night before I sleep,
I ask myself "What am I?"

Just like how a familiar fragrance
stopped you from walking,

made you wondered your memories.
'Where it came from?'
'Who it came from?'

And just like that,
It isn't hatred anymore.

It might hurt still,
But it isn't hate nor sadness.

It is longing.
Longing for that fragrance you once loved.

And just like that,
You have long for that feeling again.

She was sitting on the corner alone.
She tried to move but she was froze.
She screamed but she can't be heard.
She was lost and wanted to be found.
Wasn't she pathetic by herself alone?

**Could it be she wasn't aware she was hiding?

Just like when the wind brushes me off,
It feels like nothing but simply a feeling.
I cannot see nor touch it no matter what,
No matter how comfortable it would always be.
  
Just like when the stars twinkle at the sea,
It feels so real but yet just a reflection.
I can only watch it but can never grab it.
Nomatter how greedy I try to hold it forever.
  
Just like the time that passes by on us,
It feels like yesterday but it was too long ago.
I can only remember it but can't hold to it,
No matter how regretfully I am to have it back.