Life turns as ball without a sense, it goes and it recommences. Nothing is right nothing is wrong, everything returns to that which it was in the beginning, as much as we run from the spectre of a past life, it haunts us in the shadows projected in the sidewalk, entering the thought and sinking it’s mark in the saddest of souls.
I go back to the beginning of all to walk the past in a wave of pointless (meaningless) memories, I let myself sunk to immediately appear at the top of the highest mountain, I will be master of all resources, nothing will make me go back. I am willing to walk the world of loneliness, I prepare the thought and heart, soul and spirit for this journey. 
sábado, 29 de setembro de 2007
Life as a ball
Postado por
White Night
às
01:47
Subscrever:
Enviar feedback (Atom)


Sem comentários:
Enviar um comentário