when i came to that hill

i am talking with myself,

lying on my backside,

reflections in my shelves.

I try to find conclusions.

They are not easy.


I wanna be a radical

but my reaction is,

I try to be a good friend,

but I feel dismissed,

wanna be cool,

but I loose my temper.


I am not happy with substitutes.

I miss the real thing.

And sometimes it's not amazing,

to keep the key.

I try to be honest,

but they want to see my face!


I try to be a good girl,

but my reaction is,

holding my breath on

and running on my knees.

I'd like to live for peace,

but I feel angry.


I try to be caring,

when I am feeling dangerous.

I try to be modest,

but I need admirations.

I wanna keep my daisies,

but my desire burns.