DARKNESS DROPS

My soul has no peace. In the anguish of a depressing afternoon
I see the corpses of this war all coming forward,
helpless, and calling me,
as if they wanted to take me with them.
My soul cries because the wars are here too,
the deadly stabs,
the absolute pain, the defeat.
My heart cries.
There is too much pain and one day my heart will quench its beats.
The human being strikes again and again and again.
It affects itself.
Devour life.
Eat the heart.
It kills everything.

THE GREEN EYED GIRL

The green-eyed girl watched the falling rain hit the window; the drops competed to finish first, it was like a competition and the first one that arrived disappeared into thin air.
A bit like life.
Life is a constant race of speed, only those who keep running find their way while the others get lost halfway and in order not to waste time they take another one that leads them to unhappiness.
Then there are those like the girl with the emerald eyes who from the beginning do not know which way to take and remain at the starting point waiting for someone to pick them up and take them on the right path.
But that someone will never come.

Her eyes slaughtered by the night.
She who in her eyes had the routes to the moon.
She who was cold inside, the cold that freezes your veins.
She who no longer believed in love, she didn't want a guardian angel.
Those eyes have seen too many things for the few years he has.
Her eyes always on the edge of the precipice.
Always ready for the explosion.
They say that crying is good, good for the soul
But when your soul is too tormented where nothing makes sense they are just wasted tears.
Like, have you ever confused the dream with reality?
Have you ever been high?
Did you believe that your train was moving while it was stopped?
Maybe I was just a little girl and that's it.

I SAID GOODBYE

I said goodbye in the end,
I counted the petals, the drops of frost,
I even counted the clouds.
I said goodbye but didn’t leave.
It was all still there,
leaves, stones, boots, sparrows.
I couldn’t nest on a branch,
to be human means to build.
But I don’t want to build,
concrete and tears, and distorted iron.
I said goodbye but remained like a thread of heaven,
like a stringy mist,
like a sovereign bride.
Mud and petals, roofs, twigs.
The sparrows and I are the same.