What is a man without his own story?
What is a story without a past?
I feel you like taking the best of who I am…
If you were who you say you are
You would only be jealous of your own past
If you yearn to change something so much
Don’t forget you to those methods will succumb
I bet you don’t like what is like to have story
I bet is only to your eyes great
That past now buried so deep, you don’t care about memories
What is a man without his own story?
I’ll tell you what he is…
He is the concubine of a woman
The vase of a womans consciousness or deceit
I hate the fact you don’t respect my will
My trials of separation
My way of giving and taking without hurting what is real
My story will be mine until the end you son of a bitch
Why would I pretend for your lame ass
This will be my only jealousy
To protect my own story and remember how it all began
Does this bring an answer?
Or feel imposed to find scars on a path
You are not the voice that ticks within
Can’t you see I’m doing this:
To feel alive
To not follow
To be witty
To have a better tomorrow
This I will not forget again..
I need money to be rid me of some debt I have, I feel stuck… If there’s anyway you could help. It would be gladly appreciated.
What is currently holding me back? Could it be the spiritual? Could it be the mental? Maybe a distant power that succumbs to my reputation or maybe just something I’m not addressing like I should. This feels so awkward and as something I can’t change for myself. What is the meaning of personal space, if I feel like I’m being exhausted of my own. What is this bullshit?
There’s been some many people that believe I favor them or even that I had the utmost pleasure in seeing them do their thing. I don’t have a boss you know. It takes my personal space to oblivion. Plus, people that don’t love you will always take the best of you or play with your worst. Are you understanding what I mean? So the real question is, what the fuck is happening in my present that my mental state and spiritual feels contaminated by something?
I know some people overthink me sometimes, just because they never had the chance of hurting me like they wanted. I’m an Ace bro, I won’t take any shit from anyone. Imagine being against the sword and the stone all your life. Fighting for your personal space even in your sleep. If you have any belief in life, you could tell the difference between right from wrong or even Shepard to sheep.
I really expect this to end. This, I’m your god bullshit. For those that don’t understand the last statement. Some times the mental state can be tricky and it could influence as any other drug. In addition, people could try to be your conscience and some even break their bones trying. So, I don’t know what’s currently happening in my atmosphere. But, I’m pretty sure it’s not me.
So people, this is why I’m selecting to be alone. To wander and not feel any attachment to those who think of me to lightly. Even the women try to under mind you with some manipulative bullshit and since I don’t plan on going deep in you. I’m going to mind my own space.
I mean, what the fuck is happening with personal space?
You were my portrait
You are my end
To find drops of beauty
Will be my requiem
After the ages of listening to a song
Where are you? My distant singer
My drop of stars
Someday I’ll fly like the wind
Someday you’ll be that resting dream
I heard they know about us
You and me
If you don’t mind, sing
For us to feel what is to be free
Open sky bless again this ever dream
Of finding a friend, of finding rest in sleep
Darken me! holy is to much
Cry alone, until we meet
I’m alive thanks to this
To you my last torn page
My ever ending bliss
What’s family? If not this
Ever patient, ever mist
Would I be a Wolf or a beat or a kid?
A dumb dead man
Or one swinging (dancing) for a kiss
You! Won’t forget
The days we harshly met
The mist along a presence
With the taste of someones death
How did we manage to survive
You and me…
You being so high and me resting as low as I could be
Managing time to regenerate
The scars given from a convulsing fleet
Give me rank, give me sea
So this snap of fingers plays for keeps
Through good and bad
Through love or speed
Through tough or sad
Through stale or wind that’s free
I’m alive and I will be…
Me encuentro en un desorden
Poco normal a mis frecuentes ambitos
Algo quizas paranormal o espiritual
Siento flechas saliendo de mi espalda
Pero, como siento que llegan mas?
Quien fui yo, para tener este color?
Quizas fue el exceso de dolor…
Aun asi, porque me encuentro falto de calor?
Suelto, encontrando en mi corazon
Encerronas a un espiritu nuevo
O un desahogo al dolor
Quien creyo que me marco?
Donde se encuentra aquel hombre,
que ante mi se creyo Dios?
Siento que es mejor no juzgar
A pesar, que siento lastimado mi coraje
Sin tener consuelo o con quien mis lagrimas pueda derramar
Mil traiciones yo pase
Entre personas faltas de un milagro
No creo en religion, por eso pecados
En mi no ven un beso o un regalo
Siempre sere yo
A pesar de que un titiritero
Quiera darme un traje expirado
No niego ahora soy arquero
De un lobo buscando compañia
Soy mejor, ya sali del pozo
Donde fui echado a ser un ladrillo de acero
Ahora no tengo peros, fui hasta mozo
Siento un huracan como hermoso
No hare promesas, asi vivire…