Everyday become monotonous, waking up to the foot push bed, removing hair from the face, look in the mirror and see the person I've become, and from the moment you feel the water hit your nose and you think you are immersed in the sea, losing his eyesight and all that wise fades as your hands lose weight and think you're dreaming.
And what if life is written by a man with a withered hand?
"Little by little, life loses meaning, I just keep sitting there waiting for someone to stumble"
0 comments:
Post a Comment