but he's just so honest with himself, so present with his own soul
that a cliché is just an excuse to not admit that he is true.
so true that hurts.
so true that lie to him is lie to myself.
he is what he is and that's enough.
enough. enough. enough.
listen to what i'm saying:
enough.he likes to pretend that he's mad, angry and bad.
a wild heart misgoverned in the road.
but he's just a boy, trying to understand this mess which we call life.
live.
love.
like.
lack.
he tries so hard to suck the essence of his bones, that he lives his life in the most
deepest
crazy
good
and
joyful way.
he's a clown inside a world that clowns are wise.
that crazy people are like a punch of truth in your stomach.
his name is in his eyes.
his thoughts are in his sweat.
his believes are in his attitudes.
you don't need to ask him,
bother him
sell nothing to him.
just feel the soul.
it's so much more simple.
feel him.
feel him.
feel him.
now breath.
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