But I'll keep spinning around
Naked in the rain of my own tears
[[This is the burning of a dream]]
I know that I am weak, but sometimes hope seems too hard.
So sick of myself.
So sick of humanity.
Sometimes, when I gaze at the sky, I wish that I was a star: timeless, removed, pure, all-seeing. But then I think of what it would be like watching the world pass by, watching people watch me, wishing they were a star like me. Coming and going throughout the ages. A never-ending cycle of humanity, and me the only one looking on, watching life in all its glory bloom and fade like flowers, there one day and gone the next.
And I knew there was such a thing as love.
I knew that there was hope, and a meaning.
And I know that there's beauty.
But I don't know where anymore.
I am so defiled, I do not know how to shine.
God, I'm so sick of being lonely.
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