Fix It

Fix It

There are thousands of tales about rebirth, there is as many songs about pain, and there is a lot of lost sentences about death .There is no blood but there was soul until I sold mine. There is no peace, but for a moment there was such inebriating love, that I got drunk on your presence and forgot everything that made me the mess I am used to be.

Fix me. I am broken.

A woman once looked into my eyes and saw my soul. She exposed everything I hid, in front of me, with sweet words and a warm embrace. She spoke about my strength, about my figure, about my royal like way to be. And she also spoke about the great sadness hidden behind all that. She never saw me again, but then nobody had seen me before her.

Fix me. I am broken.

And there he goes down the streets downtown. His head held high. His hips moving like world is a stage and all the lights were above him. Where do you go when the lights turn off boy? Like in that song, you still fell like the child who belongs to nobody, and wear people as clothes, holding they close to your body. You want to be wanted. You want not to want it.

Fix him. He is heavily broken.

 Were there was joy, now there is pain. Were there was blood there is void. Why don’t you cry? Why are you always crying? A man who needs no crown to be made king, a boy who has no halo, but feels like they expect to see an angel when they look at him. The plain truth is that there is no salvation, or thrones to sit on his horizon, there is only battles to fight, and he wishes for no more confrontations, but he has a war in his mind.

Fix it. Cause everything is broken.

-Miguel