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living by myself
gives me time to confess,
no more fooling around
my heart
once a training ground,
is now a fortress.
You're thick but you try,
Often the truth makes your blood thin
Stars die,
Like a whisper in the wind.
There are those concealed truths to control yourself, even forgive yourself and ultimately help yourself. Sometimes getting to the truth ain't ever worth it.
Portraits lying on the old shelf,
Reminds me of a time
I used to do a good impression
Of myself
They say people never change,
It's rather quite strange
That there's a world beyond that door
While I was stuck sleeping on the floor,
Trying to diverge the bold arrow of time
Is in itself a crime?
Things seem unreal
Like a one-hand clappin'
Things take time to heal,
Just let it happen.
The journey of a portrait through time.
I want to show you some beauty,
Before the damage is done.
Could be too big of an ask,
To give yourself away,
To this weight of love.
She watched a silhouette disappear
Beyond the cold misty mountain
There was no turning back for him.
He said to himself
'I have my freedom,
but I don't have much time'
Things that might be keeping me awake,
These tiring nights
Hypnotic dreams making connections,
Way beyond my comprehension.

Are they meant to keep you on your path?
Or grow out of it and fly above the clouds?
An illusion of control?
Or a way to fulfil your soul?

Perplexed at those vivid pictures,
Of places and people left behind
Maybe sometimes just stuck in your mind,
Turning me into a beast of burden.

Wake up from my somnambulism
To find me back in bed
With sunken eyes, holding my head
No meaning to this pretence.

A lullaby went wrong,
A state of trance
A voice inside my head,
Speaking to me like I still had a chance.

'I know you know your pain,
Here's a ticket to hop on that train
The path is treacherous with mist all around,
But have faith, you are heaven bound'

Till the morning comes and the sun is shining bright
Still ******* in my fictitious knots,
I wake up from the slumber
Realizing it's not up to me to join the dots.

Was never great at reading signs
Been living with these feelings somehow,
At the end of the tunnel, there's a light that shines
Time to face the music now.
Oh dreams, what are you?
Coming every night,
Most of the times I don't even remember
Is it good news or bad?
All I know is I need you
For where the world would be,
Without people who had dreams and acted upon them.
Greatness isn't for those,
Who gets satisfied merely by seeing their old work
And think 'This is it!'
But instead for those who observe their own work,
And think 'I wonder how I can top this'.
Being a born genius would have been great, life would have been somewhat simpler - maybe, who knows?

But since it is not, we might as well learn and improve ourselves on this journey - the payoff would be much better. Maybe, who knows?
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