ONYMOUS
... I guess this story isn't going to end. I tried, yet I just need to survive; My integrity, my love, my respect. Thirty days is still like a day old. Now feel like putting the mask on, And be like I wasn't yet born. Yet, each day I quit being strong, Each day I'm proved being wrong. I heard them saying, they say, I say; The words that come out of my mouth, Are always put on a scale, Those I speak not are put on charge. Oh God!, I need thee as Judge; For that burdens me seems so large. I wish I could hide the sticks that beat the gong; I wish I could hold the beak that sings the song. Although I live an onymous, I dance not to its tune; So be! Now, feel like putting the mask on, And be like I wasn't yet born. For each day I quit being strong, Each day I'm proved being wrong. ... The silent voice of a thought, When not realise into words, Yet loud in the ears; What then lies in the eyes of he who lies? … @brethrenx.com