I've been crying tonight, as i take a look outside my window and stare for a while at this city covered in multi colored lights so far from my grasp, so foreign to me, i begin to realize how strange i really am. And my eyes are filled with so many sights that i've never seen, and my hands still await for things that will never come, beautiful things that are not meant for someone like me. It's an awful thing to live inside one's head, where the days are always grey, and my friends are all a lie i taught myself to believe, and an insipid pale moonlight, silently watches my madness on the rise. And i think to myself...Why am i not like everyone else? Why am i so scarred and full of dark nights? Am i what's wrong? Is it too late? I've been feeling the need, starting to feel like my old self once again, the one which emerged from the first cuts, the killer inside my cruel grey world. And i'm lost so deeply into this thickness, that i can no longer divise an exit that could lead me to daylight. And the only possible solution frightens me more than death itself. I need to make myself believe another lie to prevent the fall, i don't want to see red. Maybe i'll let it out some more, let it fly around my room, make its escape under the door and explore the night for a few hours, the monster needs to be fed from time to time to keep me sane. Who knows? Maybe someday the rain will stop and i'll feel less weird, but for now, i'll own this little space.