Dual disease

I wish it was clear and obvious
the sun does not always shine,
but when it does it is too strong,
but when it does it is too strong,
and the light dazzles me, blinds me almost kills me and I fall ...
I fall and I'm in the ravine,
and now what can I do?
*help help*
Everything is dark now,
the ruins of the sky are collapsing,
they fall on me and hurt,
even if they are not seen, they are abstract, they are inside of me.
I'm dying, maybe I'm already dead.
Where is the reality?
What is the reality?
Who I am?
Where am I?
There is a recurring thing ...!

I'm in my eden,
it's a paradise of flowers,
why are not you all in harmony with this positivity?
Danzo.
And my grip is you
the only muse that inspires me
my madness in creative inspiration
An outburst.
Melancolia that cradles me
it makes me fall asleep in a secure hug,
the only one who convinces me that tomorrow I will be able to wake up again.
My cure: art.

I made a dual game,
there is no winner or loser
because I am the executioner and the victim.
this is my life.
I live in oxymorons,
and when that does not happen,
I look for that as a drug...
for not live in apathy.
I do not hear anything else, I do not hear anything,
if not this trip on a Russian mountain
that has been going too long and never stops.

Perhaps it is the only solution.
I would like to feel light.
But the gray world is already heavy,
and how can I escape?
Why nobody understands,
that an angel and a devil speak to me in here.
And maybe you do not understand that the angel wants me dead,
and the devil wants me to power.
I am tied, blind and gagged.
Victim of my disease.

*Without her I would have died,
My art is the salvation to my illness,
my illness is the nourishment of my art.*