I don't live in a fantasy, man

the pencil strokes are many words that I didn't have the right to say, so many emotions that have remained in my chest.
each line is a series of bricks, each series is a wall, and I still build a fortress.
a fortress full of cracks ready to explode:
glass, fragile, transparent, where ribbons of my darkness are locked.
After all this time, I don't konw if I'm ready... to be loved.