Always at night but not everyday
I can smell an embryonic vague feeling
About what I left behind
In the land of slaves

Fear, redemption,
Agony and misery

4 words represented
A fallen shameful kid
Escaping from them but
Committing other brute mistakes

He became something I never expected
He was I but only now I can be me

Taking a deep breath,
Exhaling now I can remember
Would have been impossible before,
The cure wasn't around
The patterns were never simple
And clear
Why when I'm alone
Do I pretend I'm back to that land?

I'm not afraid but some old mistakes may reborn
Is this caused by the main reason, the true witch I'm expecting?
Am I truly expecting her or am I condemned for her non existent?
Because of this inquisitive I tend to brake and mislead myself

How am I supposed to continue with pride?
All I am was never tasted by whom I molded
Since her nonexistence comes forward with impudence
May the meantime become short and existence become unfaked