caliban
new kind of freedom
Sweet sins scars my horizon. Got nothing to expect in this emotional unstable time. Looking forward there is a meanningless life to go. Path of sorrow! Age of decay! Pictures of wrong decisions veils my sleep but the lines are drawns. Nothing could release me. Am I born to excuse my way of thinking? Am I force to justifiy who I am? Death. Sweet death could be a mercyful fate. Delivered of despair. New kind of freedom. A new kind of face.