The hour of trembling, forced by the genius idea of your left hand, marches in my vivid breast.
Speak to me in words of "I don't know" so that I can discover you...again along with others who are or will be.
There is no egoism in love, dear, and whatever penetrates my body, soul, or mind it is what it is.
So, tell me... Can you love me and leave me at the same time? Because I have an urge to be me, the authentic one.
So much social construction keeps people away from life, and all we are is just a net on the tennis court.
I am sorry I am not the way you designed me... Or not, I am not sorry for me I am sorry for you ...and only if I were another, the one who doesn't fall.
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