Black Swan

It´s always the transition from white to black. The slow change that makes everything different around you without anyone noticing.

Until then, you move forwards and make all those small corrections that are obstacles in your yellow brick road. Your legs, your nails, your hair in a ponytail...the smooth face that´s your passport to everyone.

But there´s always an excuse in the form of a reason. So the end justifies the means. And you want it so bad it starts turning grey. You want it so bad you can´t see you´re wearing your hair down.

Then you stop walking and start running, because you know you can handle it. Even though others tell you it is not good enough, not worth it, you know it is. It´s passion. It´s knowing it´s meant to be. It´s black.

So the slow change that makes everything different around you, becomes the slow change that makes you different. And you don´t stop and look back because you can´t. You don´t own it, it owns you.

Who said white was perfection and black was a reflection of everything you shouldn´t be? because right now that person should know, that´s not exactly what I think it is happening to me.