METADE FOR ME
What the force of fear that I am not prevent me from seeing what longing. That the death of all that I believe I am not tape the ears and mouth. Because half of me is what I cry, but the other half is silence. What the music I hear in the distance is beautiful, though sad. What the man I love is always loved, even if distant. Because half of me is departure and the other half is nostalgia. What the words I speak are not heard as prayer or repeated with fervor, only respected as the only thing left to a woman awash with sentiment. Because half of me is what I hear, but the other half is what callus. That this my desire to go to become the calm and peace that I deserve. That this tension that I corroe inside a day rewarded. Because half of me is what I think and the other half is a volcano. What is the fear of loneliness away, that the coexistence me to become even less bearable. What the mirror reflecting on my face the sweet smile that I remember to have given in childhood. Because half of me is the memory of what was, the other half I do not know ... What is not needed more than just a joy for me to aquietar the spirit. And that your silence me talk more. Because half of me is homeless, but the other half is fatigue. What the art point in a response, even if she does not know. And no one try to complicate simplicity because we need to make it flourish. Because half of me is the audience and the other half, the song. And that is my madness perdoada. Because half of me is love and the other half ... Too.