drops drying on my hands, who knew there are such powers
words were supposed to be just that, and nothing more
releases of an exiled heart
who knew that on my every breath fate turns around
how do gods live with such awareness…
oh, but we killed them all so they won;t turn us into them
so we could go on creating enemies in our minds
so we could keep on blaming, mocking, judging
everything else but ourselves.
who knew there are such powers…
now that I know, here is a different game:
may hearts be released from any summon
and drop the weights of past to fly their present
may love never be doubted, or forgotten
and always win battles with fear
may drops of happiness be enough
to perish voids of desertness.
may aftermaths never be published
and everyone I ever needed
may they be free, and live their dreams
may love surround them overflowing
to never look behind in sadness
and dare to live and love as wished.
