Brave Story.

Sunday, November 2, 2008

Uncaring for the pains of others
yet growing uncertain with regards to myself
disliking people, thinking that I'm the only one who's unfortunate
at things I'm not granted I only sigh,
cry like a three-year-old infant
sitting waiting for this thing called love
I shan't lose to the reflection of asphalt,
I thought, watching those who walk by their own feet
if there are feet that you can move
if there are places where you want to go
let's walk there with these very feet

there are nights when I thought, we might not be able to reclaim our true smiles, but,
supported by the warmth of those who are dear to us,
I had thought that I'd like to try believing once more

When in pain, I wish we were able to confess that it hurts
we are but weaklings pretending to be tough
to pretend that I'm all right when I'm lonely is to protect my self that threatens to crumble, however
mistakes, scars, days when the way darkens, days of childish tear-stained faces,
these things will be the proof of my existence
in any case, from now on, with more, much more resolution than anyone else,
let's carry on painting our awkward dreams
put away our excuses, puff out our chests with pride,
let's carry on singing songs of the people we call ourselves.

11:53 PM