quarta-feira, 31 de março de 1999

Who am I?

Sometimes I wonder why I write

Maybe because I can’t do anything right

I’m an asshole with will to change

But something stops me: I’m the same.

I like who I am, other people don’t

I like playing stupid, other people won’t

I hate my pain for what they feel,

Can’t sleep at night cause I ain’t real.

If I change myself to please them,

I won’t be able to look at the mirror.

If I just stay the way I am

I’ll live alone and bitter…

Don’t want to vanish to escape

Cause to feel, to exist,

It’s better than nothing at all…

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