I write with letters of the silent alphabet
the foreword is a short criticized page.
With my heart pounding and silence as my bed
I notice that my life will step to another stage.

I will not be a poet, I will just pretend
that I use noble and enchanted words
I’ll write, but I’ll be not famous at the end
I’m going to search for the emotions of verbs.

And the non-colorful muse with which I feed,
will be hiding in the comfort of billions of stars
will feel melancholy this entire universe of greed
my eardrums will have an echo of silence and scars.


Lasă un gând