miss-hampster

Un dia, pienso que mi corazón se desgarrará en dos trozos.  Un trozo por el pasado, y un por el presente y futuro.  ¿Y para que propósito?  Estoy perdida en mi mente, y no se como deshacerme de los fantasmas que vagan por los caminos en mi alma.  Los fantasmas llevan las pesadillas, y a veces no quiero dormir para este razón.  Yo se que no puedo continuar mi vida si siempre hago las mismas cosas.  Tengo que movar.  Tengo que respirar.  Sin ningun dudo, tengo que retener la esperanza.  Y, siempre, tengo que confiar en mi corazón y el hombre que lo tiene.  Sin él, no estaría estar aqui, no estaría viva para pensar en estas cosas.  Y, cada dia,

I'll put your picture in a frame, Maybe paint just your smile, But I've never been good     with a brush,     nor with a pen,     nor even with words. My words are too sad, My heart too heavy. Even my smiles are lead,     plagued by gravity,     heavy as the rainfall,     silent as a teardrop. They crawl across my flesh, Those memories, hopes, And all that is left are     water-color roses,     somber rainfall,     quickly fading stars.

People are pathetic. The human race is destructive. Is it any wonder that I'm ashamed to be human? Expression is expression. Is it really so awful if someone isn't good at expressing themselves? I suppose it might be. But one is worse than awful if they think that they're so much better. The sign of a great artist is humility. Not jealousy. Not ego. Not pride. I am not a great artist. I am barely mediocre. But that gives no one the right to judge me. Honestly, if people weren't such bitches, I'd like them more. But no. People are pathetic.