He went outside…Dante saw the light for the first time in many days, and liked the feeling, unfortunetly, every single thing that he saw outside, reminded about the past, that wild savana from the garden…the place where used to eat those baked potatoes.he fell on his knees with hands wrapped around his head, screaming: “Why won’t you ghosts go away NOW!!”, accidently he looked on the left and saw that cursed hill where he was teacher on walking,when he saw the end, but not paying attention…Thoughts came out from his mind like wind…It was too much…walking his way out of this, he reminded how he was a dick on that uphill. how the blue horse saved the day that evening answering his calls.Irene was pesimistic, but he told her to cover her face, and it will come.He was right, with er he was many many times right, but the problem was that he liked everyone to know this.
His heart was sending killer waves now, if it could stop it it was perfect, but it just won’t stop..the orange cover still ain’t closing, and my brown cover it will cover but it doesn’t matter now, he has a black cover now, she has a black one two, but where’s the desire?
The anger stormed him now…no words for this, why he would be angry, and with whom should be angry?Irene is gone, Irene is dead, instead of her, now is a girl blended in a society filled with stupidity, false dreams, ipocracy.
C’MON old IRENE!! please get out of my head…you used to be so kind and loving, so innocent…fuck it you’ve lost you’re innocence and you have no charm now, why can’t i understand this?
He reminded about his half heart, it is lost along some pieces of paper, in the plastic compartiment in his walking machine.There used to be two stars on it, but one faded away.The other sits alone…why does it come so long way from southeast to stand on a broken-hearted neck.
They said this is the most awful day of year, the specialists never get this things right, but he was the king of bad luck, he had to prove the ohers wrong if this meant him being miserable.Night came, and found him crounching on the grass. Stars were so visible like the ones when he begged freedom, he was such a badass then…yeah…we all are.The thought of death was so sweet now…only wanted to lay down there and never get up, but it wasn’t so easy…this would’n end on his terms.Sweet Irene is now a hated one, and the winter tree may never have such big ears.
Again his heart is punished with million tiny arrows, the soul is dying, letting in a cement way of life, not even the strawberries would make a difference, or cherries, or peaches…how can the apples count for nothing?You were supposed to marry a farm guy, have you forgot?
Sweet old Irene was dead, he couldn’t get her from her grave, she has those monsters keeping her away from life, and he cannot match them, they won long time ago…………………………………..and his nowadays just wont stretch that saving arm, it’s just another shovel diggin his grave…
His heart was sending killer waves now, if it could stop it it was perfect, but it just won’t stop..the orange cover still ain’t closing, and my brown cover it will cover but it doesn’t matter now, he has a black cover now, she has a black one two, but where’s the desire?
The anger stormed him now…no words for this, why he would be angry, and with whom should be angry?Irene is gone, Irene is dead, instead of her, now is a girl blended in a society filled with stupidity, false dreams, ipocracy.
C’MON old IRENE!! please get out of my head…you used to be so kind and loving, so innocent…fuck it you’ve lost you’re innocence and you have no charm now, why can’t i understand this?
He reminded about his half heart, it is lost along some pieces of paper, in the plastic compartiment in his walking machine.There used to be two stars on it, but one faded away.The other sits alone…why does it come so long way from southeast to stand on a broken-hearted neck.
They said this is the most awful day of year, the specialists never get this things right, but he was the king of bad luck, he had to prove the ohers wrong if this meant him being miserable.Night came, and found him crounching on the grass. Stars were so visible like the ones when he begged freedom, he was such a badass then…yeah…we all are.The thought of death was so sweet now…only wanted to lay down there and never get up, but it wasn’t so easy…this would’n end on his terms.Sweet Irene is now a hated one, and the winter tree may never have such big ears.
Again his heart is punished with million tiny arrows, the soul is dying, letting in a cement way of life, not even the strawberries would make a difference, or cherries, or peaches…how can the apples count for nothing?You were supposed to marry a farm guy, have you forgot?
Sweet old Irene was dead, he couldn’t get her from her grave, she has those monsters keeping her away from life, and he cannot match them, they won long time ago…………………………………..and his nowadays just wont stretch that saving arm, it’s just another shovel diggin his grave…
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