Weep

She turns
she burns
she feels concealed
by someone that she doesn't know

She hopes some day
he'll find his way
into these tears that she weeps

She knows she gave
she feels enslaved
by what she gave too easily

She hopes in time
she waits in line
for all these things that will make her real

I feel that she woke up
feel she's had enough
Feel it's time she opened up her eyes
I feel that she woke up
feel she's had enough
Feel it's time she opened up her eyes

She holds the cold
she feels so fooled
by all this pain she has revealed

She hopes she cries
she holds inside all
these things that will make her real

She screams "put your hands on me!
Put your hands on me! put your hands on
I need to feel your touch!
Put your hands on me! put your hands on
I need to feel your touch!"

I feel she's got to open up her eyes

Put your hands on me   

smoking...cigarette by cigarette. Feeling loneliness, slowly, but inexorably consuming that pure, warm, tender, white light. "So c'mon, tell me, is this the end?" No, the beginning of the end. Totally confusing, you lose yourself. "And when I lose myself, I think of you..." No, I don't think at all. It's much more easier. And trying to erase. "...erase myself and  let go of what I've done". Yes, I'm forgiving myself. For everything I've done and for everything, I hadn't enough strength and courage to do. Looking straight forward, but where is the confidence? I can breathe easy, can I? Can't find the answer. For so many questions, million.
And the sun was setting down, giving the hope, that "tomorrow will be many changes". Hope or illusion or lie - is there any difference? Another question without answer.
I don't want anybody to comment this post.