Live your days, always divided, always open. View the world with a certain tension that you feel vibration in the fingers, and you want to grab anything, and sometimes you do, but the feeling remains. Walk with my mind empty, discouraged, cursing all that is unresolved, against all those people who seem empty of meaning your every gesture, all that part of your life that you wish you had lived appiento, but you seem to have wasted, and you can not fix it.
incomplete and that thought makes you to punch your pillow, for no reason, just to let off steam. Incomplete, sense and form. Incomplete in your heart that bleeds every time you open the world, yet can not not do it, and is slowly being eroded by indifference.
Incomplete shadows that form the passage of your dreams, in the light of a candle burning all your hope, and I see bent over that table, to think about those empty of meaning accompanying your every waking.
But it's time to raise his head, turning her face to the sky and be bathed in courage, and collect the pieces that remain, incomplete figures of thoughts, dreams started and never finished, shreds of life that you dragged with you, worn out and tired. Look into the eyes of the people and offer a new part of you, and hope only to receive in return what does not yet know, and perhaps not even know they still possess.
TM
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