Lizzi writes of love and leaving.
“I can think of younger days when living my life
Was everything a man could want to do.
I could never see tomorrow; I was never told about the sorrow..”
So much of my life has been wasted on sorrow and heartache.
Sounds dramatic, doesn’t it? Almost glamourous – as though I were in a movie, staring brokenly through a windowpane with rain dripping slowly down the outside, whilst indoors a tear slips gently down my cheek, leaving a trail of bright agony in soft focus [and fade out].
Real life is so rarely like the movies. I’m pretty sure there’s a sneaky Hollywood conspiracy to take the ‘how we imagine it should be’s of our lives, present them beautifully on screen, then charge us through the nose to see them. They’re onto a winner, that’s for sure.
It might not just be Hollywood, though. It could be every writer/filmmaker/musician/artist/poet/lyricist/photographer EVER…
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