Crow

When telling the truth is a sin and want something is impossible then the dreams become nightmares, the reasons have no name, and logic is only a glimmer of humanity. What feet wear is reality and what we dream and is nothing but a lie. Believing and thinking changes the context of things, nothing else matters to me to find answers, knowing that these are painful and pathetic as I am. A picture full of mist and psa blood through my head a sacrifice had to be made that men can not live with the beasts, their destiny is to fight until the last moment, knowing the result, a total annihilation. Shadows cloud my vision and my life inrrumpen showing what I am.

A voice I remember what I was, what I am and what I could never be, save what remains of my mind and shows me a new path, one that is full of obstacles, one that maybe just maybe I can get fun, one that can find the end I wanted, to have a battle or a feat last one to be remembered that no one can forget. I lost many bets some very expensive, some even knowing that was going to lose, being an idiot, or an inveterate dreamer, wishing to ride between dreams, create a utopia improbable, someone who only knows how to fight, someone who forgot how to win.

I embrace the night hoping that no dawn, to last an eternity, the stars shine and nothing changes in the sky. The soil in which I walk is just earth and Carbon to write my ideas, the haze wash my troubles, and show me a different path, one that can walk. I cry for the moon, a broken dream and a land unreachable, something that even you can not strive.

In the end, the crow was right.