The stars of the night would shine just for you
In a faraway city, I look for you
And I don't find you, my darling, I don't find you
You are the one I want
At the end of life, will you come?
Tell me, at the window should I wait?
O mountain girl, I need you
O light of the moon, don't let me die
I am poor, but my heart is full
I live in a female body
I am not perfect but I search for you
Please tell me when you will come
I am tired from this life
Disillusioned to the maximum
My darling, I only wait for you
Come swiftly into my arms
About the Creator
Livia Caci
autistic lesbian
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Where there's Art there's Heart
Here's a stupid thing: I adore art, but I start to panic whenever I step into a gallery. In the one place I should be at my contented best - surrounded by walls teeming with creative expression - I fall apart. What ought to be an enriching experience, tacitly designed to facilitate the exploration of human empathy and perspective, is for me an overwhelming purgatory of anxiety that compresses me to the point I cannot breathe. At the same time, I experience a sense of extraction, as though my head is being prized open to create a hole so big my sanity could evaporate. Somewhere between these two opposing forces of vice and vortex, I feel myself dissolving in a stream of panic that makes me want to cry; and I feel so daft feeling this way, that all I want to do is run for the hills.
By Caroline Jane7 days ago in Humans
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