After years and years of living,
it’s finaly time to become immature.
It’s finaly time to become
too old of a story,
a novel far too boring,
a poem forgotten by time,
a rhythm that can’t find the rhyme.
It’s finaly time for this myth
to be missing its heroes,
to make all the pages blank,
then turn them into mirrors
so we can be who we are
right now
Spirit of Tara 