I feel contaminated with episodes of mistakes, like the disease process can be associated with the emotional outcast range of developmental lack of happy messages that I portray so ugly, what I’m trying to say is... My mistakes show, even thought I try to hide them and somewhere deep within the human race of individuality I have lost the trace of good existence, I have become unaware of the chances of balance and strength, I am only immune to committing self promises and owning sharp awakenings, I am not a good person anymore... what I’m trying to say is I am not a good person anymore, I have broken promises and poisoned souls, and changed minds ...myself..I have degraded myself, and I am sorry but it is very much too late to be unwittingly sad about the remorseful truth, artefact chokes blind of misery and I communicate a bland taste of relationship... what I’m trying to say is when I try to be good it comes out stiff and the person does not want to take my feed of challenging cheapness, that’s it...I am cheap with suffering a cruel talent towards myself, I have shown nothing but anger and ill fittings, I am ill fitting, like bound by the size of pain and illusion. What I’m trying to say is... I have lost myself into a space where i thought I was lace and dantelle screaming to be a woman of propriety and elegance recognisable by faith, warmth and strength, but passion of a woman went to the dark alley ways where I could familiarise nothing but insanity and impurity, and a stained mind recollecting broken glass from defeated battles that I should be hurt and bleeding decadence until I breakdown, and I become an awkward shallow part of the background I demonstrate so feebly , so momentously is the torment of impatience and greed, selfishness and lies...what I’m trying to say is lying to myself is a crucial entity of madness and I am afraid of losing my heart too in this connection of a violent exchange of feelings... that no – one has ever known about. And I try to keep it still, the fury of the black storm, the destiny of an evil witch or something of the sort...the secrets of a wicked day and shattered night...many nights... what I finally am trying to say is... Keeping the dusted hushes distant will never be reasonable as the answer lies in the heavens counting the closing doors and falling time opening in my face.
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