La Muerte del Buho

It makes no difference. Everyone behaves the same way, like there’s a leash strapped to their hearts, beating to the beat of a custom made drum sewn from the very strings of society. Breathing in not because you want to or because you need to, but because doing so its common; like dressing up for work, like getting married in church, like fixating on looks and steering away from the emotional bridge cultivated by love itself. It  automatically starts once your umbilical cord gets cut off of your body. Then your system starts reacting, like a beast in the wild. Searching for food and waiting for the opportunity to attack and rip apart the flesh that nourishes your lifestyle. It never stops. Like a clock design for running on a constant pace. Never going backwards. Always moving onwards into the unknown. Accepting what difficulties may come and letting all the surroundings disappear in plain view. I wish you would understand this. The pain that grows inside.