« I decided to be vulnerable again, I decided to show you my forbidden colours and unleashed pain.
I decided that they wouldn’t hurt me.
I decided about my presence in the center of all things wild.
I decided that I wouldn’t feel anymore, love anymore.
I decided that I wasn’t meant to be an open book, someone who speaks truth and honestly.
I’m my own creation.
I burn myself and relive from my dust.
I’m a wild bird.
I destroy to create.
It’s a never ending circle.
I’m merely an image of the ridiculous amount of images people make of me.
I’m a fake.
I’m a phony with the mean reds.
I’m Holly Golightly with a bottle of Ativan.
I’m an idea, a concept.
A woman maybe.
But never anyone’s woman.
I’m a scream, a loud and aggressive scream.
I’m the letters that I’ve burned.
Burning them only to create my own.
Letters covered with the perfume of my anger.
Shouting images of what I tried to be, who I tried to be.
They don’t know me.
I don’t even know myself.
Im The Scream, and just like him I suffer in silence.
If only my lips didn’t work against me.
I lie and cheat and don’t believe in romance.
Just like The Mighty Falcon, I’m what dreams are made of.
Expect I’m my own nightmare.
And I can’t wake up. »