“I wish I could etch my feelings on a rock, I also wish I could crush that rock to dust and let it flow down a river.”
Other times I feel this wretched rock is placed on my heart and I cannot breathe.
Strength is a luxury most people cannot afford,
Other times it is an obligation, one cannot deny.
If denial was the name of a river,
How difficult can a story of survival be?
How majestic can a problem be?
Answer to those questions is only one
The solution will sound very easy.
After all is done and everybody has left
There is no more a parade
There will be somebody around
And in that moment the truth say
that it was all meant to be this way.
A wretched relish,
A wretched fetish,
A wretched zest,
A wretched delicacy,
A wretched story.
From One and Above,
The soul of a mourner is abated,
When a heartbreak is propelled.