I can't believe what I just saw.
(I cannot unsee it.)
That psychological killer.
The suicidal vampire in all of us.
Just wanting to be free.
Free of things we want, but although we want.
We never will, truly have.
Supposing it all means something.
Something to hold onto.
That's the beauty in everything.
We live trough it in our sleep, even.
But there is no form of words that make sense of it.
I just wish I could.
Could sit here and have all the answers.
Invented in a time during which I determined how,
and how much between these words,
answered for more.
I cannot invent words, that those words would translate a cause,
that the cause so profound would be found in a person lost.
I'm just a homeless person.
Ignorant to what he has,
that he may as well be homeless, hopelessly ignorant,
and a lost cause.
- Marco
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