Vain... It's everything so vain...


Life, for example. People try to grab it as strong as they can, but it escapes through their fingers. Life and Time pass by and we can not buy them back. They go, they run and laugh at our faces.

Lies!! Lot's of lies!! Nothing more, but lies!! Why are we always cheating on each others? What's the matter? what's the point?

Tonight, though it's Christmas, I am not fine. I am in one of those nights I feel I am doing nothing on Earth's surface, I am feeling such a deep sadness, a deep melancholy, but I can not put on words all my feelings. I can not sa what's going inside my old soul.

I read others' poetry, some people who are not published and then I look at mine and that's when I doubt of my abbilities. I start disliking my words, I start disliking my paintings, I start disliking so many things in me... And I try, try hard, try harder, but it seems nothing's good enough to my soul. I feel it in shattered pieces, like a lil bit of ash disperse in the wind, flying over the sea.

The sea... Oh! How I miss the sea, it's chant, it's small, it's grandness... The sea, my brother, who cries so many similar pains to mine.

I need to go off to bed... Head's hurting... And this is being to heavy... Heavier than it ever was!

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