Dark times bring me to my desk again...
This pen in my fingers is eager to feel
that parchment where all my ideas rest...
How could it refrain from such desire?
How could I stop them?
This ink was intended for this sole purpose,
I can't stop what was meant to be....
Humiliation....Dark times, indeed...
My heart is bleeding...
for no reason.
I am dead inside,
and then I am still alive...
Life was sucked out from me.
Yesterday the hurricane came,
Happiness was not meant to be....
yet?
Maybe later.. not today...
Being happy wasn't that hard, back then.
I remember happiness...
Can the world go back in time?
Can my world go back in time?
Is it possible to act as if an important day,
just didn't happen at all?
I don't think so...
that's why I am dead,
that reaper came yesterday,
it took away my feelings,
but forgot my body,
it forgot to take away this pen...
≈Carcase≈
