I Meta motori di ricerca sono un’alternativa alle soluzioni più conosciute e tradizionali, che hanno delle caratteristiche particolari. Scopriamo insieme di cosa si tratta. Se volessimo provare a…
Underneath the shower
I would lay.
And let all my fears and insecurities drown and die,
I would dance to my favorite songs,
And in the nakedness, I felt free.
Unknown of the four eyes that were watching me from a distance,
I was happy and I was jumping.
Who loved open windows,
Now barely keeps one open.
Two pairs of eyes,
Still haunt me when I take off my clothes.
And now in that nakedness,
I’m trapped in the moment,
Where a thirteen year old was....
What am I supposed to name it?
And what am I supposed to tell people,
When they ask me to open my windows?
That, " I am constantly reminded of those eyes,
Which were staring,
Staring me from their terrace,
Staring right through the open window of my bathing room?"
Or that " I hid in the bathtub and cried for hours while I covered my nakedness and my freedom with the old clothes kept in the bucket."
When Angel Olsen said,
" Won’t you open your windows sometime,
What’s so wrong with the light?"
I barely had an answer,
I was numb.
Dear four eyes or those two pairs of eyes (whatever fits for the proper grammar),
I hope you know that you had destroyed my freedom,
Destroyed my love for open windows,
God gave me faith after all these years of being haunted by you and your creepy presence,
Which wore red check shirt with shorts and an off white T-shirt with grey pajamas.
She gave me those eyes to see something beyond God herself in between sunsets.
Now I sit on the terrace,
Or in open balconies,
I look at the clouds and the sunsets.
But you failed.
I’m a girl,
And I rose from my haunted past,
That had almost killed me.
But I’m alive.
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