About me

Yes, I am I, I myself, just what I turned out to be after all. A sort of acessory or leftlover, The foggy suburbs of my sicere emotion, It's me here inside of me, it's me. What i was, what I wasn't - that's all me, What I want, what I didn't, all all of that gets to be me What I loved, what I stopped loving - it's all become the same sad yearning in me. And at the same time, the impression, a bit inconsenquential, Like a dream made of mixed realities, Of facing myself left behind on a seat in a trolley, To be acidentally met by someone who'd site down on top of me