Konstig liten

Hittade en gammal diktsak som jag tyckte var lite märklig. Minns inte att jag skrivit den, men har ett vagt minne av att det var del av en lång flödestext.

I used to live in a sea of dreams. Created by the midnight hours while the darkness was as thick as curtains, the unconscious tears from the lost of a loved one, made the sea of dreams grow wider and deeper. This was my home, at first, before it dried out. I never knew the girl who cried out my world to be, who wept and wept every night in her sleep. Sometimes I thought I could sense her in the wilderness around me, that I could hear her under the surface, smell her in the morning air, and that I could glimpse her on the beach with the sun in her back. I wanted to help her, I really did. But oh, I was only a child back then. Only a child.

Kanske inledning till något större? Hm varför inte. Gillar den faktiskt, fastän sista meningen kanske hade kunnat ändrats eller tagits bort (känns lite väl fnissigt).

Nu blir det film och pizza med kvistis.