The world is so loud.
Dreaming in wishing touching peace at my own terms.
Seems like i depended on others...

I envy the concept.
I trusted my gut.
I really thought it was my decision to wake up in a perfect world,
to believe the concept of perfect exists in the first place.

Cloudy imagery, cars passing by,
the weak little grasp i do while singing,
the soft hair shiny hair i press my hand against when im angry,
the pillows i hug every night thinking about...

A bunch of noise now surrounds me.
My friends won't talk about it, they just rather nomalize and call it a live.
I am not compatible with that noise, i wish i was deaf on those moments,
i wish i could wear my headphones to muffle it all and that be it.

I was so naive, for so much time, the time is now wasted,
at least that's what i thought of it.

I wish i was different, but i love myself this way too.
So hard... to protect yourself, even if you are living in someone's paradize.
The real challenge is you... or the enviroment?

I like wasting air from the same components that make me whole.
But does that make me whole? Or am i something else...
A bunch of meat stuffed in a fragile structure, somehow i can write my own poems.
That bunch of meat is what gave us everything, and i have to learn how to live with it.
Even... protect it from noise, which is definitely a challenge.

Should i be the noise too?
Am i the noise?