Freitag, 31. August 2012


I would be write everything, but I don´t know what! 
I can´t speak english and very worse is my grammer.
I would write about my feelings, but I don´t know where they are. 
I don´t can write »Dear Diary, my life is sad.« 
I can´t write what I have do this day that my mask keep in my face. 
But I can write my true feelings. 
They are the feelings about I can´t speak, but write I can ever. 
It´s all the same what for a language I write. 
Somehow I can me express.

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