In the foggy morning I’m here, floating on my existence as I live another useless day.
I look in the mirror and I see a reflection only known to me.
I hear stories of allowed relationships, and for a moment I feel rage.
I feel a fire inside, listening to normal people’s problems.
And then she comes again and we will be silent for long hours, as the Pretenders air on the radio.
“When you’re standing at the crossroads and don’t know which path to choose”
and this music sends a shadow to the sky,
as I get on the train to dream the stars.
I observe the skies falling on shaking wishes, on fragile cracking streams of thoughts.
One week ago the goal was still there, there were still hope.
They want me to say that I love girls,
as a trumpet tweets from digital headphones.
Will something ever change? Will I ever take off?
Then I see the stories, the beautiful stories that I dream to tell,
I’d like to get remembered for a story, for my story,
to have had the strength to rise up. to reach up to the firmament.
Maybe I’m not made for this, I have to get stuck! NO! I don’t want this.
There must be something special ahead of me, there must be something better.
I can’t believe that all I can do is to be here seated writing things that nobody wants to read.
I will take a bow in front of my wishes. Don’t fade away.