Interludio

Sometimes you dream too much, so much that reality doesn't matter, you feel like the days are carrying you, and you feel alone, extinguished, like this cursed city that urges you to beg from those who take the most from you. My tears have dried up, I paid for my sins committed in the past but look at me, sitting here so weak and vulnerable, silent while I let the devil speak to me.
It confuses me, his voice deafens me and I abandon myself, only if I close my eyes do I see this throne that I deserve but don't have, I will never put my soul up for sale, I prefer to be happy as nobody than to be a dead legend.
I walk slowly, and not so attentive although I try, I am not killed by hatred or regret only by time that wrinkles me, like a useless paper, in seas, in irreversible seas I swim impassively.
Sensitive child, the naughty and bad boy, fragile flesh and bone molded by the stick, but I live to tell and narrate it, and I know it's so easy to die that I tremble just thinking about it.
But what does it matter, better nothing than this odyssey, and if there is an afterlife then welcome it, today I am blurry and the glass is not fogged, and it's because someone has forgotten about the dethroned prince, who uses broken dolls and paints his broken dreams in a broken world, shattered by anguish and others.
It's the silent story that was punished with screams, today I look between my hands and what do I find? Nothing.
We all have a story that must be told and we keep a secret that no one knows, we talk to the pillow but it doesn't respond, the truth is out there, but it hides.
We all have a story that must be told and we keep a secret that no one knows, we talk to the pillow but it doesn't respond, the truth is out there, but it hides.