etraud

Who in fact am I?
Flesh, blood and reason?
Or just
an outer shell that is already so decayed, empty... like these clogged days, like this surreal seclusion, an unfilled appearance wrapped between these four walls?
Did i truly find freedom in the exile of another day of loneliness?
Was I proclaimed in the sterile subsistence of life, Flesh, blood and spirit, or am I just another insignificant delivery?
I know i have a name, but i never understood the basis of having it...
I Know i live in the vault of the oppressed and thorny days, these same days that i hardly insist to cross, moment by moment...
I Know i was black, i know i was white for a magical "second", but i turned to black again...
And in Pain, i finally see an inner shadow, a shadow who smiles, but with a smile that´s not mine...
I Finally see that i´m just an ilusion, just an analogy of something that i´m suposed to be.
Am I living, i ask...?
And in silence i wait...
But No one can answer me...
No One... but the inner ghost who smiles at me...
And So... i still continue to be a stranger in a strange land, a beggar of pure moments, a true ghost haunting this crazy thing... that we all call - Life!




To: "A.S"