past thoughts of a hermit (a selection)

my story:
the pain is clear as crystal
i wanna die fast
i pull out a pistol
and look into the past.
the memories flying by
it's not worth while,
i feel i wanna fly
but keep walking down the isle
the bullet going through my head
i think i'm dead.
the blood pouring out
i'm drifting away,
i try to shout
but i go astray.
my story ends finally,
i'm dead on the floor
the carpet is stained,
the pain is no more.

with eyes that stare
and strip you naked and leave you bare
the unspoken thoughts, that hurt deep inside
there's no escape, nowhere to hide.
a life in seclusion, a life all alone
a wondering soul with no place to call home.
'tis a sad story, a sad story indeed,
and no one recognizes a friend in need...

to be:
a life without pain
a cloud w/out rain
to be painless
to be shameless
to be in the centre
to watch from the side
to be surrounded
to live alone
to rule the world
to sit and stare
to be admired
to be loved
to feel the hatred
to be filled with dread
to love to dream
to fear to live
to die to try
to be...