The day I understood you were only a human being was the day
which ended it all.
I lived in my bubble, safe, waiting for you to tell me what
to do, and how to act. And you were always right. I thought
you were god. I thought you were immortal. I wanted you to
be. But you aren't.
It hurts to think you can't help me anymore, you can't help
yourself. I used to hang on each of your words. Your diary
was my bible, the only bible I've read, the only one I could
accept. I lost my thoughts, let them stain in your ink. And
you were the ultimate truth. And you're gone now. And I've
never really known you. And never will.
I knew you couldn't love me back. Love is a human feeling,
and you're above all that, you can't love, you can't accept
love, as though you don't understand it.
We all loved you, millions, millions whispering your name in
our sleep, and you didn't hear a single voice, which could
be a scream if only you'd let us. We could've made you
happy, and you ignored us.
And now, your silent make more noise than the million
screams that we are. That we were. That we can still be, if
you allowed us. And what you claim to be a coocoon, is
nothing more than a prison, a prison you built on your own,
and a prison you can't get out off. Even if you wanted, and
I don't think you do. You like it there. It's safe. Waiting
for us to tell you what to do, and how to act.
You became your own shadow, a shodow which is hunting after
you, seeking, growing from your deepest thoughts and fears,
it's the truth you're afriad to find, and yet you're digging
in your soul searching it, leaving the whomes wide and open
for the world to see.
And we become your shadow, and now we're fed from your
deepest thoughts and fears. We've become your worst enemy,
and so you try and escape. But we've hunted you down, you
lay in our pockets, and we take you out from time to time,
just to look and be proud we own you. You're our toy. Toy
for out souls. And we love you. And we always will.
המציאות הנו מקרי בהחלט. אין צוות האתר ו/או
הנהלת האתר אחראים לנזק, אבדן, אי נוחות, עגמת
נפש וכיו''ב תוצאות, ישירות או עקיפות, שייגרמו
לך או לכל צד שלישי בשל מסרים שיפורסמו
ביצירות, שהנם באחריות היוצר בלבד.