:::em tudo (foto: Rafael Bertelli)

quinta-feira, outubro 03, 2013

I don't know about a title - tittle to come - within my lines - little girl has died

I feel like someone has died. There's this hole inside my stomach.
I feel like I'm missing something, like nobody said anything.
I know someone has died and yet they're all just there and they're singing a song, a song that isn't theirs, a song of my own.
Wait a second. I can hear it. I'm sure now they're reading a poem.
A poem I wrote about a girl I've never met.
The girl I've created only to see her never grow older. The girl I've locked between every two lines I have ever written, who has danced to my most ridiculous songs.
The girl I introduced to the forest, the sea, to a few lovers of mine. The girl who told them I loved them.
The girl who laughed at me when I cried, but when I've been the evil one, she never forgave me.
She taught me nothing, she feared nothing.
The girl I've given so many lives to play is now dead.
Everybody is out there singing and reading about a girl who died for lack of being.