Frida Kahlo's paintbrush

I don't want to think anymore because thinking it's making me ill.

I only want to listen all my favorite songs and be laying on the bed, because the world it's getting cold outside and I'm very icy to catch more cold.

He's at the door, but I really don't care, so I'm going to sleep and let the flames begin. This time I win.

Fortunately or unfortunately, I'm here, alone, and the only thing I know are my feelings, for that reason I'm always talking about the same. I'm starting to be boring.

In another life, I think I would be a Frida Kahlo's paintbrush, because all I know is that love is the most powerful feeling.