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My Tw|t Garden
Sunday, October 3, 2010

I'm asking for too much. That's why.




It's not all that bad and hopeless.




Just less than the ideal in my dream.




What's in a dream anyway?




It's all nothing but castles in the air.




I've no energy to make love happen.




He doesn't make the first move ever.




It's just gonna fade away. Like the withered roses on my vase.




No sunlight, no water to nourish and make it bloom. Unresurrected, it's bound to break apart one day.




I'm too tired to make magic. I can't even sleep enough. Perhaps to him, it's just laziness.




When would he ever pick up a book to read about what I'm going through?




Guess he'd rather be at his mafia war games.




Or the camera.




I see no hope.




Maybe it's clouded by my blues.




Blues that no one is willing to lift for me.