Flood, washing all sense away.
Thoughts in a snarl. Emotions in an uproar.
Haunted by the non-existence of a ghost. Who’s there? Me, only me.
Staring. At nothing in particular, seeing everything, perhaps for the first time.
Caught in that whirl, you thought you wouldn’t be able to swim, but you can, you can.
It’s surprising what you can easily do once you give it a try.
Counting down. Three, two, one. Ha, I’m airborne.
What caused this? There’s no cause, no reason.
No, no, there’s always a reason. If only you admit to it.
The change you sought is here.
Three, two, one. Here goes nothing…
(that’ll teach me to listen to Trevor Morris at midnight)
2 comments:
δε φταίει ο trevor
τα μεσάνυχτα φταίνε
είμαστε πολοί που το παθαίνουμε αυτό
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χεχεχε
καλώς σας βρήκα! μου αρέσει η παρέα σας...
τα μεσάνυχτα φταίνει πάντα, πολλές φορές και τα μαύρα μου μεσάνυχτα!
Καλημέρα!
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