Greatness of live is not in it's greatness. Today I sit here looking at myself, a pile. A pile of dirt that I see no more. No more can I stand the sight of it. A tear down my chest, a feeling unknown. Looking outside my window at the airplane passing by, flying high.... Wings that I only see. Light which keeps blinking into my eyes. I feel like a limb. Just here. A tear down my eyes. I no longer ask myself, no longer trouble myself with the choice of being alive. It's a slow death. Nearing everyday. Day by day. Masks all over. One for each motion. None for myself. All I fear is here. Myself! Thank you for listening to me today, the show may go on....... Who know 's ! What the future beholds?
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