is the street you think to walk alone
until you notice to be surrounded by clones
disguised as dim shadows, shapeless.
Is there the line, to catch the last ticket
to the next stop: Self Pity.
Didn't you know is free
for those who deserve the visit?
Don't stumble on those broken bricks
the one behind, is ready to run over you.
You feel heavier
every step you take, slower
while all your chances pass you by
heavier, slower,
every mistake you made, now you carry
heavier, slower, frozen
your soul is cracking
on the Boulevard of Broken Dreams.
© Diana Mistera 2020
No comments:
Post a Comment