domingo, 15 de enero de 2012


If I was meant to survive,
to torment myself with the pain I inflect,
why is the life still making me breath?
If my destiny is to be lost,
to ache for the dream of flying,
why does the life keep me on this earth?
Is it that we humans still love to be hurt?
Is it that we find the confort in the suffering?
Is it that when we cannot have drama, we invent it?

Our fears fed

Once again, we are here to discover that this is not our place.
Once more, I am here to see my own destruction,
to feel my own doubts, and how they bit me inside.
We watch our castles burn and collapse,
we see our fears fed, and our agonies growing,
and in our minds a voice calls, shouting.
We cannot ease the pain of a whole body infected.
We cannot release the bird that always has lived in cages.