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Edge of MadnessIt's as though I've fallen off the edge of madness,
But you threw me a rope.
And now, I'm here,
Hanging on a thread,
But why won't you pull me up?
Why won't you put me out of my misery?
Why won't you save me from this brink of madness?
Why won't you take me to sanity?
No, you just let me hang there, alone,
And not insane, but not quite sane either.
And I simply wait for you
But for how long?
It's just a matter of time before the thread breaks and I fall
Headfirst into insanity that awaits
To engulf me,
Devour me whole,
To claim me as a prize,
As its very own.
I will always go backI will always go back
Because it comforts me
This familiar pain
This is where I belong
In the shadows
Among the thorns
No sunshine can touch me here
In shades of grey
Through the looking glass of pain
In the moonlit night I sit
Amongst the beasts
I let them in
Pain is all I need.
Letter to YouDear You,
I never had the courage to tell you how much you mean to me.
You'll probably never know because I'll probably never say it.
You've been a good friend. You've been a secret adventure.
(A secret because I never let you find out that you were my adventure).
You've inspired me in ways you cannot even imagine.
You made me stronger without even knowing it.
You amaze me.
Your calm, your cool, your persona and its charm.
You make me smile.
You touch my heart in ways that cannot be described.
You read into my soul. You believed in me, even when I didn't believe in myself.
You make me believe that life can be beautiful.
You hurt me like no one else can.
And yet, I can talk to you about my dreams and fears.
I trust you.
You made me strong enough to face my fears.
You make me want to stay and fight for what I believe in.
You've been something special, you can never be replaced.
So thank you, from all my heart.
Thank you for being you.
I know now that I have to fight my battles.
I know no
Volpi.You will find that the story you tell
is very rarely your own. In Lucca,
even the smallest pebbles
breathe in the warm sunlight.
Knotted stones and cobbled roads
beat out a paper-dry heartbeat heat
my city breathes in and out,
inhales sparrow air.
It's writing a story.
You are the pen.
You will find that in Lucca
the daisy chains forge fire
in side streets and back alleys.
Teenagers intertwine. Tell me,
odd flower, are you still closed?
Here we are colored wax;
the heat of the city melts us.
We run into each other, rhapsody
of pigments. Operas are our specialties.
Open up; feel the reds.
If not, try and see them. There is a place
of deep knife marks, a street
long as midnight
you may learn something there.
Valentina's voice glimmers like red wine.
You may enjoy intoxications. Still,
know alcohol has no story
and will swallow your own.
Find the sign with the wolf on it.
You'll know the place. Epiphanies ring true as church-bells.
Lucca still guides the wanderers
to well sp
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