Am găsit ”poezia” asta printre documente, sub titlul ”Work in progress”. Recitind-o, mi-am dat seama că e as complete as it gets, așa cum se întâmplă cu orice scriu într-o anumită stare de spirit, care, prin natura ei, e efemeră. N-aș mai putea adăuga nimic. Ar fi ca o anexă kitch, evidentă. E o parte din sufletul meu aici, ca de altfel, în tot ce am postat pe umbreluță în ultimul timp (ultimul timp -> ultimii ani - bad wannabe blogger, bad!! ). Personal, poezia îmi pare foarte vizuală, aproape epică. Then again, I have the whole backstory. Acestea fiind zise,
Failed rebel, dragging along the weight of incoherent heresies,
you never learned how to adjust to happiness.
Shunning every fairy for being a ghoul in your twisted mind,
you never knew what standing still was all about.
You always feared that peace was a gimmick,
so you never took the time to try it for more than a second,
cause that's how long it took to balance your way back
from falling into the abis
Jaded soul, burning bridges as you went through life
you never expected anyone to understand
giving away all you had to the monsters you were trying to evade
you never knew love, but you loved all the same
Fighting for something you doubted was true,
you burned yourself out,
you shattered your core
This war wasn't real,
but you died anyway
Lost to yourself,
Friend, foe and savior.