oroka_na @ 2010-03-23T18: 20:00
compassione.Soggetta Subject to my own self-analysis that does not admit to my weaknesses and my repugnant "to be" attuale.Soggetta a world that can do everything and I do not know niente.Soggetta to torment me get by in the storm of my mind too often to find a port sicuro.Cerco to arrive at the truth, but every step forward stretches the way, instead accorciarla.Continuamente of smear to a candle, thinking it incessantly and I fuoco.Continuamente a self-inflicted my sentence with no hope pietà.E constantly in my human capacity to hope and dream ... realizing that the human remains in me poco.Gli well past loves, passions are ghosts and shadows ... try not to let me alone, and secretly still love what fu.Non want to deprive myself, because I'm the only certainty rimasta.Nel future I see nothing that jumps into the void, and the fear of finding a bottomless pit is the most painful and excruciating experience in ricordi.Mi cling to them as they were the only lifeline, knowing in my heart my grave errore.La its beauty, its majesty and elevation are my goddesses ... while its heat and its movements of the soul is the fire and the hair shirt of my anima.Ogni shred, in lowercase, it is ; wrapped and soaked from the heat of the fire that burns inside me, and secretly hope for a death lenta.Perchè love is inseparable of pain, such as choke and burn slowly ... feeling that every part of you dies plan plan ... and hope that continui.L 'for pain love is the movement of my becoming interior.
I bow to my pity, are at the mercy of myself. The Inquisition
valuterà.Non I know that I will have to be condemned, but it certainly will be more acceptable than mild and that my soul is suffering.
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