Just from Fil Dorae by Miguel de las Heras

It seems like two, three hundred years
still I don't feel strong
just when I think that I'm catching the flow
my inner judge invokes
perfection as the way to be

I'm so hard on myself
the love for blood
if it's not me, then
who will care?

I'm so hard on myself
I notice
and cry
and live again

But it's so hard not to compare
and build myself strong
and when I do, I draw the lines
that slip away from me,
us and them
and the whole world
filled up with names
that make no sense

Filled up with names
trying to make sense

These words I'm attached to
allowing pointless games
I should do some recycling
might try some mental hygiene

Head, shine
tell me how to live again
one night spent alone
with no despair

What's gonna be left
if we have to die alone?
if not in this life
there's another look
to be taken from

These fears all around

Always consuming me

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