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Spark

My mind is filled with thoughts,

then in the moment of writing,

a nothingness catches my heart paralyzing my hands.

I watch the blank page,

waiting for words to flow, to throw out, to describe my world,

what my eyes see around me.

And it feels like I’m fighting a lost battle,

it feels like my dreams dry in the sun,

drop by drop they all flow back into my heart,

and I would like to scream out,

Stop! Come out!

Let me get relief from my demons,

let me feel that I’m good at something!

Let me be able to harshly describe my deepest feelings,

with no pity, with no remorse.

Getting hope from the blue sky,

getting shattered by my family’s refusal.

I want to see hope between the burning flames,

I want to walk under a sky that is my sky, my world, my life, built with my own hands!

I am going insane, hallelujah!

Am I lost out at sea?

I’m floating through life’s pattern,

my hand is ready to be held,

to return the warmth to sender.

I’m ready to get read,

these words will reach nobody’s heart,

but it’s not a good reason to give up.

Deep down, beyond all darkness,

at the end of every little path,

a light shines, a spark of hope that I have to follow still remains,

beyond all sufferings and absurdities,

that little flickering light calls me.

And while I walk this path alone,

I see people stuck in their own prisons,

incapable to smile, to feel something,

to open their hearts.

That’s when I smile,

and I become aware that this is the right direction.

Dreamer’s Confession

In the foggy morning I’m here, floating on my existence as I live another useless day.
I look in the mirror and I see a reflection only known to me.
I hear stories of allowed relationships, and for a moment I feel rage.
I feel a fire inside, listening to normal people’s problems.
And then she comes again and we will be silent for long hours, as the Pretenders air on the radio.
“When you’re standing at the crossroads and don’t know which path to choose”
and this music sends a shadow to the sky,
as I get on the train to dream the stars.
I observe the skies falling on shaking wishes, on fragile cracking streams of thoughts.
One week ago the goal was still there, there were still hope.
They want me to say that I love girls,
as a trumpet tweets from digital headphones.
Will something ever change? Will I ever take off?
Then I see the stories, the beautiful stories that I dream to tell,
I’d like to get remembered for a story, for my story,
to have had the strength to rise up. to reach up to the firmament.
Maybe I’m not made for this, I have to get stuck! NO! I don’t want this.
There must be something special ahead of me, there must be something better.
I can’t believe that all I can do is to be here seated writing things that nobody wants to read.
I will take a bow in front of my wishes. Don’t fade away.

Another Evening

The movie’s over,
silence in the black of night,
this disguise is too tight for me.
Writing words I don’t really mean,
listening to an instinct I can’t control,
while music plays in my head.
An origin I can’t deny,
an identity that I won’t ever have,
a future decided by the place where I’m born,
a future well out of hand.
Life looks like a glimpse of light,
days go by like lightning waiting to rest.
What’s this glimmering for?
what’s the sense of this struggling?
To find pure pearls of light somewhere,
signs of a so-blinding beauty,
that’s worth a ride, and a tale, and a story.
I want to tell the stories of those pearls,
I want to get lost in the fog,
dance in the rain,
throw away the umbrella and let my tears melt away.

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