A big mob. People, bodies, legs, arms. They push me away. I try to get away from them but the human mob drags me, and I can’t change the course. I have always moved against the stream. And now I am severely punished. I found my little hole. Concealed, dirty, but mine. And I become tangled.
A big minority. Those who are not singled out. Those who do everything all right. Those who give the example. Those who outstand. Those who deserve to be different and adored. Those who enjoy their condition without moving from their places. Those who are free, without conviction.
I want to cry like a baby. To leave this sick shell. To leave this world that doesn’t understand me. But I can’t.
A big mob. Ideals, advertisements, policies, societies. They carry me. I try to scream but they cover my mouth and nobody understands what I say. I have always been different. And now I receive my scold. I go down to the basement looking for pleasure, psychedelic lights and indulgence. But I only find a line of orthopedic beds.
A big minority. Those who don’t single out. Those who don’t think if that is good or bad. Those who don’t look for examples. Those who outstand but don’t boast about it. Those who feel equal to others. Those who open their arms without disgust. Those who give freedom, and those who don’t condemn.
I want to go up and leave this hell. I want to see the sun again. I want to be part of the world again. But it’s too late.
A big minority. Those who are not singled out. Those who do everything all right. Those who give the example. Those who outstand. Those who deserve to be different and adored. Those who enjoy their condition without moving from their places. Those who are free, without conviction.
I want to cry like a baby. To leave this sick shell. To leave this world that doesn’t understand me. But I can’t.
A big mob. Ideals, advertisements, policies, societies. They carry me. I try to scream but they cover my mouth and nobody understands what I say. I have always been different. And now I receive my scold. I go down to the basement looking for pleasure, psychedelic lights and indulgence. But I only find a line of orthopedic beds.
A big minority. Those who don’t single out. Those who don’t think if that is good or bad. Those who don’t look for examples. Those who outstand but don’t boast about it. Those who feel equal to others. Those who open their arms without disgust. Those who give freedom, and those who don’t condemn.
I want to go up and leave this hell. I want to see the sun again. I want to be part of the world again. But it’s too late.
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