Reflections At Four In The Morning

[beautifuldisaster]

All days are the same: morning, city, the crowd.

Life's not going forward, it's moving around.

And masks of all shades on those ignorant faces,

A few made-up stories in cheap street newspapers,

Sluts looking like stars, dirty queens of attraction,

Gross idols of so deceptive perfection

Are doors to the mind of the crowd, so hollow -

They hear the call of the dumb and they follow.

Now passion means lust, now freedom means violence,

Stupidity prospers. It's due to your silence!

The weak ones are searching for someone to blame,

The helpless would trade for a minute of fame.

A couple hearts broken don't cost a damned thing;

The hopeless romantics would give anything -

Despite having nothing - for love, non-existing.

We've made up this concept, as something is missing.

Believe it or not - I can cope alone!

I never wished someone to call me their own.

It's such a delusion that having you here

Will help me get over this common old fear.

What's frightening? Solitude? Fear itself!

I hide beside you when I fear myself!

But it is much better with you than the crowd

That never goes forward, that keeps going round.

[typo]

i like this. yet again you express yourself well. you kind of paint a rambling picture of discontent, but like the other one of yours i looked at there is a lack of dynamic as your words flutter around the topic. the last two lines are really good and they do round it off well.

[beautifuldisaster]

Thanks!