You make me sad, big boy. You know why? Because when i look into your eyes, i see my reflection in your dark pupils. Nothing else. I do not see the light there was before, only a ghost of reflection, as if you were nothing else than this. You see yourself so much in other's eyes that part of your soul have moved into them, and you can't see yourself anymore. It's sad, because you are so great. It's sad, because you don't live anymore, and i'm sad because I care. You used to care you too, you know. Care about the beauty of things, care about music, about friends. You used to care about you. You used to care about me. But it doesn't matter anymore.
You're gone. Gone in someone else's body. And even when I'm holding you so strongly between my little arms, you're still gone. Your body is empty, and you're just a reflection of who you used to be. Just a result of what others did to you.
Because while I cared about you, you cared about them. I cared about you, and you cared about what they thought of you.
I cared, again and again until your fingers got cold in my hand, until your soul left you behind.
I cared, but it wasn't enough.
You wanted them, I wanted you.
And maybe I just cared too much, and you not enough.
VOUS LISEZ
•My own wrecked mind•
Poetry~Des fois ça va, d'autres non.~ Pensées quotidiennes, remises en doute. Poèmes, textes. Ce qui dompte mes pensées sauvages, les retiens en cage. Peu importe la langue, anglais, français, misère, douleur, apaisement ou bonheur.
