I don't find my place, anywhere...
When the romanticism opens its doors
I love it but I'm weary it
When the gothicism opens its doors
I love it but I'm scared by my thoughts
When the realism opens its doors
I would so appreciate it but I can't
When dreams opens its doors
I would passed through them and I would never go back
But the doors closes, always
Before I can take my place for ever,
Leaving me alone, with no place, nowhere...
I wander here and there, as spirit in limbos,
Pending that a new door opens, somewhere... for me
Created: Feb 02, 2010Document Media