I have no one to call on my own,
a hero,
a mentor,
a model,
a father...

I am but an incomplete man,
of substance,
of significance...
I need a deliverance...

What am I to do?
should I live this life without a glimpse of you?
this paper is the only place I can confess,
of a grave longing from your absence...

father.
I think I deserve your attention...
I am...
so.
not me...

Hello there,
Again you are here
not haunting my dreams,
but haunting me when I am not in it...

Shall we talk again?
I am tired of making love out of you,
I have tried to make reality out of you,
I have lied to life loving you...

Come take my hand, I'll lead you,
into the garden of your promises I'll take you,
bring your torch I know you are ready to burn it down,
theres no other perfect time but now.

It's great to hear you saying you love me,
and you thinking that I appreciate it.
and in times I feel that I don't even deserve it,
or deserve you...

For I can't find the words to repay the days you share with me,
And I think until my death I am still in debt,
And with my promises left broken, you still pick up the pieces and glue them with me...

And if this feeling seems overrated,
I'll always make sure that what I feel is unadulterated,
I hope that in the phrases stated ,
you won't feel that they are sugar-coated.

Am I worthy ?

You feel like the gray background of the red dot,
walking with the crowd at seven in the morning,
riding the same train,
eating the same lunch,
watching movings that inspires,
and you think you could change the world,
but you can't,
heroes don't live in this boring ways. . .

and then you stagnate,
and then you feel desperate,
and then you do nothing. . .
you just wait for your fate. . .
and be like everyone else,
lying on their grave.

You didn't even make it to the newspapers obituary,
You didn't even appear on T.V.
You haven't even composed a song,
or painted a masterpiece,
or cook a new food,
you haven't contributed to the world. . .

fate.

I fear the time when your eyes turns grey,
when the locks in your hair straighten,
and the locks in our hands loosen.

I fear it when you think of things that never did happen,
when my inaction forms imagery in your head.
and free the tears that you never shed


I fear it that when you wake up,
you'll realize, that you don't have the strength. . .
to love me anymore.

I watch the evening sky turn from indigo into black,
I watch the stars pulsate like an arrhythmic heart,
I saw how the gray clouds cover them in a blanket of shade,
and the starshower starts to fall on me as I gaze,
witnessing a genocide of fireflies right before my very eyes.

If love has a silhouette, it would appear as a jagged edge,
If love is a smooth sailing vessel, it would be drowned in a stormy sea,
If love is as soft as a cotton, then it would be my pillow as I sleep in dismay.
and if love is a silent prayer, it would be a sin to say Amen.
For love doesn't end. . .
And love doesn't start. . .
It's a cancer,
dormant until it breaks your heart...