March 9th, 2008
It breaks my heart to see little things belittled even more; like seeing Paris shaking with fear right after she was given a hard kick on her side. Poor thing.. I woke up because it pained me to hear her hurt cry. I stayed with her for 20 minutes after midnight. At least, she’d calmed down, and seeing her crouch beneath my feet quivering with uncertainty as she heard the door of her enemy open up and it just made me madder. She laid a dogly peek behind me as she watched him walk falsely towards her but stopped when he saw me beside her. Abusiveness of the fist doesn’t sum up for your being as someone I’d avert from. I stayed up late until I could feel that the dark mist dissolve. Exposure of madness unnerves me, but hurting a helpless being makes me loathe you.
It breaks my heart to think that I couldn’t have done enough on making people happy, contented and protected. Just as I’d watch them pause to think for a while, maybe wishing to be off to the place with that someone that dominates his heart and collecting images of what was it that used to feel good that could only be understood by the two of them. I am insecure, just like an ant would be if a foot would step on it. Little scares are little scares but they also unnerve me. But whatever the sting of my tongue spits out, it doesn’t amount to the real fear that cloaks me. A revelation of my being — that I could be that what you call a "snap of a finger".
It also breaks my heart that I’ve started being a driftwood. Floating in an endless sea of hopefulness but having nothing solid to step on and suffocated in the separated room. I’m unnerved by the vulnerable ME that I’m presenting and I’m afraid of breaking up into pieces and I wouldn’t be able to collect myself again.
I am a mouth, and a big one. One that wouldn’t stop until I’ve devoured all that needs to be devoured. I am a mouth enough to spill myself like wildfire and I am a mouth enough to speak angrily about my life’s frustrations on love, friends and work. It is ideal for me to feel the lot and it is the usual for people to evaluate me after reading this false synopsis of my life.
It breaks my heart to see little things belittled even more; like seeing Paris shaking with fear right after she was given a hard kick on her side. Poor thing.. I woke up because it pained me to hear her hurt cry. I stayed with her for 20 minutes after midnight. At least, she’d calmed down, and seeing her crouch beneath my feet quivering with uncertainty as she heard the door of her enemy open up and it just made me madder. She laid a dogly peek behind me as she watched him walk falsely towards her but stopped when he saw me beside her. Abusiveness of the fist doesn’t sum up for your being as someone I’d avert from. I stayed up late until I could feel that the dark mist dissolve. Exposure of madness unnerves me, but hurting a helpless being makes me loathe you.
It breaks my heart to think that I couldn’t have done enough on making people happy, contented and protected. Just as I’d watch them pause to think for a while, maybe wishing to be off to the place with that someone that dominates his heart and collecting images of what was it that used to feel good that could only be understood by the two of them. I am insecure, just like an ant would be if a foot would step on it. Little scares are little scares but they also unnerve me. But whatever the sting of my tongue spits out, it doesn’t amount to the real fear that cloaks me. A revelation of my being — that I could be that what you call a "snap of a finger".
It also breaks my heart that I’ve started being a driftwood. Floating in an endless sea of hopefulness but having nothing solid to step on and suffocated in the separated room. I’m unnerved by the vulnerable ME that I’m presenting and I’m afraid of breaking up into pieces and I wouldn’t be able to collect myself again.
I am a mouth, and a big one. One that wouldn’t stop until I’ve devoured all that needs to be devoured. I am a mouth enough to spill myself like wildfire and I am a mouth enough to speak angrily about my life’s frustrations on love, friends and work. It is ideal for me to feel the lot and it is the usual for people to evaluate me after reading this false synopsis of my life.
No comments:
Post a Comment