Word of a friend, eyes looking to the stars while they were sitting on the bridge over the stream, secrets revealed. Life was handful, just like greed of a apple picker with shirt full of apples but you had to pick that one, on high branch with red blush on its cheeks. As you got the one high on the branch, you loose all the others that you gathered, in clumsy move you made. You turn the apple with red blush and you see a rotten green side. What a waste.
Greedy, greed for life and joy, we are not satisfied with little things, little happiness, modest joys. A glint of care in someone eyes, perfect foam on ale, laughter with friends or soft and warm place to rest your body.
Just as i said. Greed.
My miserable life was marked with greed. For more men, more love, more enjoyment, heavier coin purse, better wardrobe, more friends.
What did that bring to me? Less of me, less of what i should become, loosing my friends, beloved ones and myself. I cant change the past.
Even i despair over things that i did, hearts i have broke, men i killed, and days i spent in vapor of brews, i should rise up over the greed and regret.
Ah well, that is the plan at least tonight. And i never held to my plans.
So, diary my dear, know that i go now, to see regret, regret i was not there for her if she needed me. Cirywen under the Pink Tree.
