it doesn't need a title
i don't know about
the awareness of birds.
they seem ever alert
and resting in flight
how do they feel?
and how for me
could this distance
be a promiss
reaching the fields
in which i must walk
far from my love
who cannot come through
the masks and clothes
of this senseless loneliness?
down here where i found
and lost my heart
in the roads and rain
where we are lost
between shadows
or stand in neon light,
all seen in distortion,
longing changes into pain
when it was joy yesterday:
how,tell me, can i fly
and enjoy to look down
at all this tiny filth
and claustrophobic lice?
who will touch my heart
once i reach the clouds?
who knows that i want
to be held
when i touch the ground?
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