Inlethyards Romaniem
the many things we forget
that we didn't know...
it was still summer for us,
the assassins were far away
with his envelopes and phone calls.
you're tired of saying no,
while I stumbled
in every shadow that swallowed us alive.
the universe shouldn't be that big
if we can't handcuff
the stars to our destiny,
because we suffer in layers
and the levels of anguish
work like a spiral
that descendant goes to hell,
where pain and torture build
our weakness and iniquity.
lovelessness also obeys this rule
and the only talent we have left
is the dissimulation,
that can be judged on how we resist
to everything that tramples and crushes us,
while we falsely bloom
like an old and tired tree,
whose branches no longer have flowers and fruits
to offer or see.
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