I admired the black, smooth and elegant as velvet, punctuated by the golden stars and adorned with a pearl-white moon.
After playing with my heart, stomp, mistreat, humiliate, lie, hurt, and betrayal, the only colors I saw were the red of my blood, having started as a result of slowly flowing through my veins, black, gray and silver, because I could not see the sun or the beauty of the moon, while dreaming of the stars, and cherish the drops of dew that fell on the roses, a striking crimson, decorating their stems with abundant spines and leaves.
you seize my colors, my scarlet, my emerald green, purple me and my passionblue sky. But the tears are clear and my blood can only be red blood, bright red that can not show more than the two darker aspects of being human desolation and terror. I could not enjoy the beautiful sunset, a phenomenon he admired and loved, I could feel the noise of the stream, which struck the stones that adorned the bank.
But do not take off conform to the colors, tearing your heart, feed on my blood, terror, desolation, sadness and horror. Continue to take off the mood, he could still perform the functions that my body needed, such as sleeping and eating, talking, when necessary, and perform my duties, but during the night crying and could not sleep because of moisture presentastrals flew to the moonlight and sphinxes adorn the beautiful landscapes. The fairies fly around the beautiful flowers, and little elves made mischief under mushrooms, trimmed with silver beads produced by the dew which falls in the morning, leaving a beautiful aroma that perfumes the wind. Veela
But not metamorphose, the nymphs do not exist, the moon is not magic and sphinxes are perverse. No flying fairies and elves are shy and reserved, and the only drops I see, not the spray, but those of my tears, my face Rhone. Do you think sufficient to remove the color, finish with my heart, end up with my moods, and overwhelm and destroy my world of fantasy?
You are invited to meblack. I hear no other noise than my own suffering, and more magical than I can contemplate is that ghost round the room, where I was locked up and not let me leave. You have the key and the ability to open, and you're the one who can do it using these tools.
My soul will not rest in peace, when my body cools down and my muscles are stiff, until I'm out of here. You got me, and I've been crying winged door, made countless attempts to open it in some way, while the silver ghost round the room, placing from time to time, his bony fingers in my eyes while I sleep, and what why not?, also dragging their heavy and rusty chains across the room, despertándOLED, of sadness, but mostly you. They can keep trying to open it, I know that open, trusted them, mainly because they are outside, and I within, and therefore can open them, only with a little more work and time. They
and they picked me up when I was on the floor, they and they gave me his shoulder to mourn, men and women care about me, they ask me who was responsible, and who beat them, because I want ... And you, you kept me away from them and they, for long and sustained periods of time ...
does not matter if you open the door, because even if you do, it will open, it will, I know it will, and they open . I trust them, and I want more than you canimagine. Are giving back what I took away from me and what I owned. What we have is enough to save me and others, and we can use that weapon against you when we want, because it's something you do not know and probably what you fear and is thus not the weapon we have is love and affection is produced and binds and strengthens our ties of friendship. "
still there? Hahaha extremely long, well if you could finish reading it, thanks for taking the time, if you were in my photoblog and then you went to here, I would like to bring this -> # in the post to indicate you read it ... many kisses i
cddte
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