Gritos al aire

Supongo que es mí problema, es mí falta de oxígeno, es mí necesidad de aire, son mis neuronas las que se embotan y enlagunan al observarte. 
But even though I know you're completely dangerous for me, even when I've felt your claws stucked into my chest, I'm still here. I still look around, trying to find your face in the crowd. That crowd that surrounds me, that suffocates me, that crowd that's waiting for the chance to destroy me. They don't know. They've never known. They're trying to defeat me and they ignore you already did it.  And I'm voiceless. I can't find my way through the chaos in which I'm living. It's hilarious, it is, the way I can't help staring at you, looking at you, looking for you, all the time. I guess the only thing that's left it's me looking after you. You know, the only reason I don't do that is because it's extremely painful. It's hearbreaking and I don't know if I can stand it for longer that a second. As I can't stand staring at you when I know you won't look back at me with the same feeling that used to be reflected in your eyes.