How do you rectify the silence of too many years passed when you justified a generic symbol as love? How do you accept the inhibited smile of walking barefoot in a water fountain screaming out to the clouds of childhood that evaporate years ago, but so close it almost drips down the glass as liquid? How do you see yourself as any different then you are, the monsters that crawls around ideas, the inner life that you throw away for a foot in the door? How do you love that, the shadows you predicted at birth and painted on the walls with fingers tips, singing lullabies to dolls? How do you find the inner strength to stand in the past of wasted opportunities without any eyes, and only the nothingness of it happening, only the reasons and reactions and the faceless words that follow you around telling you their position on the argument? Those ceaseless raw emotional words of someone else that got crammed in your ear one day, so far down that in silence they have their very on stage, and in winter around the dead trees covered with dirt, they are the only warmth.
What do You think about The Raw Emotions Of A Woman?
