2013-12-02 - 3:28 p.m.
This is a ballad of a storyteller,
watching a real-life, moving pictures in front of her.
Can she be a part of it?
Can she get a role, even just a tiny bit?
There are tales she can tell.
This one she can do well.
Even when she can't find the (right?) words to say.
this is still the game she has to play.
This is the story about love,
so unrequited it scares her enough.
'Though many have told her to shout it out loud,
she still knows what she'll end up without.
This is the ballad of a storyteller,
standing outside the invisible frame of the real-life, moving pictures.
She's still stuck in the same, old role.
Again, no one's catching her as she falls.
Through her eyes she can see
the man she loves and has to set free.
She knows they're not meant to be.
She'd rather weep and bleed silently.
He'll be walking away with his true love beside him.
She'll turn around with her spirit growing dim.
Where can she go?
Anywhere else, even with just her shadow.
This the boring, typical ballad of this storyteller.
God, please...
Don't let her play this role forever...
R.
(Jakarta, 1/12/2013 - 9:37 am)
