Poetry collection

The road

I am walking down the road

Depressed and black, a bloody blue path

If there is a destiny to find

It seems unreachable to me

I am walking all alone

With no company to keep a part of my miseries

With my hands, I am holding a fire

Of chaos, of hope, I can’t know

I am looking for peace

The world’s, or mine, I can’t decide

Down a hole, I keep advancing

Like in a war, I keep on trying

It’s burning me, crashing and devouring

The world’s a mess, who destroyed it

My world’s lost, can we ever revive it

And my death is certain, can we anticipate it

Melodies

When are you coming back

The one that was never here

I still hear your melodies

In the voice of many men

She stopped texting you

You didn’t seem to mind

She was only at some likes of you

You were at any point her entire universe

You never liked deserving happiness

You felt betrayal in proud

She was a sad soul that can’t stay in its container

She tried giving you what she would never have

You were too embarrassed to show her off

She bragged about you to every mirror she knows

It was adulatic, dolorful, and mad

It was never eternal, asterial, or wise

I wish she would’ve talked to you

About how she would burn at your sight

If guilt had eyes

It would gladly take hers

She dreamed of that

As she told you

Don’t touch me, I might dies in your arms

Hypothetically, I love you, it kills me inside

Can I touch your face, as close to a felony

Can I see you, as close to a dream

Can I hear your voice, as close to a melody

Can I say that I miss you out loud

Heaven is laughing at me from above

The House

Turn up the music

Open the windows

Put on a blanket

Turn off the lights

We'll take you in a tour

So be prepared to see crashed nights

Food on the table

Water in the walls

Electricity above your head

A roof and a closed door

A silence louder than any storm

A cry that couldn't dare leave any mouth

Compliments that turn into fights

Goodnight kisses that turn into shark bits

A fear that never disappears

From you, from me,

From nothing and from everything

It lingers and it folds

It penetrate the beds and the walls

A scream that resonates in the air

Live on stream,

Long ago began, and until death it'll stay on repeat

Tears that dried rivers

Bodies fully well but empty of will

Minds full of books and shelfs

Empty of feelings and words

Food full of color but empty of love

Kitchen full of items but craves joy

A mother in clothes of a soldier

Sending orders

Executing punishments

A father in clothes of a barman

With a cigarette and beer

Don't know if it's a party of a guilt trip

I hope you're not very scared

Like any family that lives in every house of every part

This family is unique and doesn't exist only in my house

Misery

I don't do well in this generation

I don't abide by any rules

I want to dress alike, but I don't want to hear their voice

I'll cover up when I am sick, tired or mad

I don't care about rhyming my songs

I write just for myself anyway

A real misfit, and I don't have a place even among them at all

Is this one of the reasons why seen genius people die?

I was too good but too young, now I've grown old and left aside

They loved how I was a lot, but I never understood their minds

Now I can offer free therapy and ask how they were as a child

A dangerous swing from not enough to way much, too far

My mom is sick, we don't compare

She's over forty, but I am not even twenty five

Are we the same, I love you but I wouldn't be any proud

The doctor said I am fine, but my eyes tell people otherwise

I'll lose conscience, or lose my mind

I won't move my body, finally do what I've been told in a while

They said stress, or maybe responsibilities

I'd say I am crazy, crying, or about to die

Or maybe it's the misery of being a woman in our time

I can't drop tears unless it's a breakdown

Or after a tragic panic attack

If I dare say this out loud, what would they think of the facts

I already grab too much attention I don't like

I used to be a grown up child, usually until lately called wise

Now I am perceived stupid, throwing up through life and tragedy lines

I don't have a long life ahead of me, I comprise with my brain's sounds

I don't remember well my memories

Now I believe the good one are from a past life

Or a good movie of a trap in time

I am not anyone's favorite, God I hate that

The broken cup is calling me, but a part of my mind screams to put it away

And they say I am lucky I can still hear that sound

What is the point of anything, at this point

I talk shit and don't know what things to prioritize

I need a husband but don't want to be called a wife

I probably just need a better mom, or and actual present dad

All I want is to leave the house, leave the city, or maybe die

What hurt you they said?

Was it some love affaires

Or some family lies?

Some people have wars, some people lost lives

You don't compare me to my mother, but you dare put miseries alike

Even if I am taller, in the ocean, if we're all drowning, we're all gonna die

Probably that's an anti-argument, for which I have no right to be sad

You don't need to tell me, I am doing fine most days of some months, but I live in a medium sadness size

All I do listen to music, smoke and cry looking at the best arts

I run away, do you want to know why ?

Look at the baby shaking from the sound of the broken glass

And honey, you can't live wasted on wine

Why does she hate the rain, did you lose weight on some cries

She have no shame, put on some sleeves if You don't want him to go wild

They spent two years trying to grow that land, it was infertile

How will she look when she's twenty nine?