Author: Black

Here I am, standing in front of you as who I am now. But there is so much more of what I hide. Swings and lakes, the lightning stars that have died long ago and dreams I have chased, reminded me that even gods are meant to die. 

I haven’t lost my burning eyes for madness and what can be found at the borderline of insanity. It came to me quite easily that the price of priceless is death, and I have taken this price tag off before, gladly returned it. My hands are still able to feel some warmth. 

Throughout the last year, there were quite a few starts, and at my own cost, people have fooled me. Looking at the fool brings up a fool in me. But each scar of my soft skin makes me grow up, and at this point, I have a feeling that the warm blanket of sun rays is about to treat my skin well.

No matter the road, I accept my book of fate, where I have left quite many notes on empty pages ahead. What I am planning to write might not be up to the liking of many, but it has become a moving force for me. And whatever dues I will collect, I am ready to pay them when the due date comes.

I am used to the changing perception of the time. The swing from watching waterfall to being under it, and as time washes me, I dream of being outside. Standing and watching, not noticing how my skin gets covered in dust. Becoming so cold and hoping water will promise me some warmth.

I am highly confused of why am I logging in here. Month by month it has been four, and I received many emails reminding me that this is going down for missing payment, but it’s still live and running.
Is this some kind of reason? Because I haven’t been rhyming lately. It could be the noise that has teamed down and an old pony that takes most of my free time thinking.
I don’t feel nearly as crazy as I used to be, nor I feel the charm of it. Feeling quite ordinary. I don’t appreciate that, but makes it slightly easier to be.