Ohne Titel
Noch so ein kreativer Ausbruch meinerseits, diesmal auf englisch. (Möchte dazu sagen, dass das sich zwar recht düster anhört, ich aber doch ein recht fröhlicher Mensch bin, nur manchmal hab ich halt extrem melancholische Phasen):
One day she wanted to write her life
down on a piece of paper
So she took the feather and the black ink,
and she wrote down the pain and anger
she felt a long time ago.
She wanted it from the bottom of her heart,
which was hardly broken.
All that feelings seemed so far away now.
Remembering all the blades
and all the little knives
that cutted deep in her skin
When she didn’t know
how to realise why her world was so dark.
She wrote really fast
about all the little lights in her life
and how they blinded her.
“How naive could I be?”, she asked herself
thinkin’ about the people she gave her heart to.
At the time she knew she had it yet.
Suddenly the black ink turned into a deep dark red, some blood was dropping on the paper,
and she recognized that the words she wrote
were cutting into her arms by invisible blades
but she didn’t feel any pain,
she didn’t feel pain for a long time now.
So she went on writing,
and the scars got deeper and deeper
and now tears fell on her words.
She cried because of the memories.
No pain, just memories.
And the words got blurry, but she wrote on.
And all that she wanted was the gift to fly.
She wished she had wings,
to fly to another place,
to fly away from her own scary thoughts.
And while she was writing on
and the blood flowed over the paper
and the scars didn’t stop getting deeper,
she suddenly felt something strange
around her shoulders
She saw them.
Tiny little wings,
getting bigger and bigger
And somehow she immediately knew how to use them.
And then for some reason,
all her scars and all the wounds closed and healed.
And she reached higher and higher
and she closed her eyes,
flying throug the thunderstorm of memories,
blurry pictures of people she met in better times.
She opened her eyes again
and saw her little dark, sad world
from a high place in some cloud.
And she had to smile,
thinkin’ about her own little darkness,
and up here sunlight, clouds and the blue sky.
She felt a strange feeling of happiness and she knew, now she was home.
No more blood, no more tears, no more sadness,
she was free
Oh yeah, she was free.
One day she wanted to write her life
down on a piece of paper
So she took the feather and the black ink,
and she wrote down the pain and anger
she felt a long time ago.
She wanted it from the bottom of her heart,
which was hardly broken.
All that feelings seemed so far away now.
Remembering all the blades
and all the little knives
that cutted deep in her skin
When she didn’t know
how to realise why her world was so dark.
She wrote really fast
about all the little lights in her life
and how they blinded her.
“How naive could I be?”, she asked herself
thinkin’ about the people she gave her heart to.
At the time she knew she had it yet.
Suddenly the black ink turned into a deep dark red, some blood was dropping on the paper,
and she recognized that the words she wrote
were cutting into her arms by invisible blades
but she didn’t feel any pain,
she didn’t feel pain for a long time now.
So she went on writing,
and the scars got deeper and deeper
and now tears fell on her words.
She cried because of the memories.
No pain, just memories.
And the words got blurry, but she wrote on.
And all that she wanted was the gift to fly.
She wished she had wings,
to fly to another place,
to fly away from her own scary thoughts.
And while she was writing on
and the blood flowed over the paper
and the scars didn’t stop getting deeper,
she suddenly felt something strange
around her shoulders
She saw them.
Tiny little wings,
getting bigger and bigger
And somehow she immediately knew how to use them.
And then for some reason,
all her scars and all the wounds closed and healed.
And she reached higher and higher
and she closed her eyes,
flying throug the thunderstorm of memories,
blurry pictures of people she met in better times.
She opened her eyes again
and saw her little dark, sad world
from a high place in some cloud.
And she had to smile,
thinkin’ about her own little darkness,
and up here sunlight, clouds and the blue sky.
She felt a strange feeling of happiness and she knew, now she was home.
No more blood, no more tears, no more sadness,
she was free
Oh yeah, she was free.
