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miércoles, 11 de diciembre de 2019

Not visible condensation of me

Sometimes I need to scream,
out loud, fiercely, no regrets
Needing the space to fill
with joy,
no matter what, rejoicing me
I open my wings and fly
I open my arms and fight
Not sure what is in front of me
I am the mirror of my craziness
I keep talking to myself
Running but staying awake
Awaking my senses to birth
The birthing miracle of life
Am I real?
My existence is here,
does it reflect?
My spirit is visible to the ears?
All mixed up in this jungle moth
Who are you?
Who am I?
But just the thread of a sad puppet
Broken, of course, replete
I can move as the exception of the logic
They say I’m paranoiac
Out of mind,
Out of this world,
Unrealistic fairy chime
Tiny innocent
A powerless
But my eyes are fluid
Wild river under the storm
Ferocious panther chasing the sun
I Will never be quiet,
but constantly on fire
Exploiting your fake peace
Here I am, I am this.

(October 15th, 2019)

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