He just left without picking up his bundle.
Everyone was watching,
perhaps, he was rowdy, or the reason
of the bustle.
He did not know how to elude the species that separated the links.
He tried to pack objects,
but a puppy was barking at the entrance
and the sign said: (((we cannot attend,
we are in pain))).
It was then that he decided to leave
to embark to the confines of the bush,
to moan, to blame the infected, and to conform
to Mariene’s way and her poor wave.
Every day he repeated: The infected are poor,
poor like me, who am nothing more than an infected person.
YOU ARE READING
When I close my door
PoetryI dedicate this work to all the friends who are left in the heart. To all those who love me. In When I close my door, a social interest and a renunciation for the sake of communication is explicit, the subject destroys his exterior, recomposes himse...
