lucky me, look at me.
How can i be lucky if my life is pointless. If my last sing of happyness taste like a distant dream. Forgotten. I'm not me. Not anymore. My life drained all my energy. As it could squeeze all my blood, my soul. I'm not here anymore. I was me then. When my feelings were untouched. Then I could think, have dreams almost as purest as the water when all things beginned. Now I'm all sorrow. Trapped in a strange body. I can move, but i can't feel. It's a mental prison.
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Terça-feira, 14 de Maio de 2019 �s 12:29
Escreve em português tbm...