The years are already blurry.
They create a false reality,
my mind. I don’t trust what it is saying though
like problems will disappear by tomorrow.
As a naive child, I hope so too
that I will live, and it is true
that I will see a tiny part of happiness.
I might clean my sight from stress.
I want to see it, but I can’t
because I know it wasn’t meant.
As if there were no tomorrow, it’s in hurry,
this decade is leaving me with a quick sorry.
I’m lost in the dark and I’m afraid;
I myself got myself chained,
and I know I could be anything better
if my light had just a bit flattered.
Alone, on the last word’s right,
I say I won’t reach more height
because here, even my self-hero flees
from my false realities.