Beautyfulls or bads, for us

Beautyfulls or bads, for us they remain just words, words to which we cling so as not to drown into thin air, which stubbornly words we want to entrust our lives... prisoners inside the bar of own mind and alcohol fumes of emotions. Without thoughts, without words of our voice tells a story in our head, there is nothing, there is no hero with his sense of importance, with its need for gratification. There is any "Golden Touch" .

Only at the moment of death we perceive our illusions, because illusions have need time, tomorrow, and death will show us that we don't have more time to dream, that we have not ever had: the bar was closed because the alcohol is finished.

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