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Waves crash down the walls of the seas.
Upon returning to the shadows,
they gather and hide,
but they never cease.
When the future arrives,
tell me how much I've lost waiting,
impatiently,
for misery to find me.
I don't know how much time I've spent,
unconscious,
only contemplating my shortcomings.
NOVEMBER 6, 2023 (Translation)
YOU ARE READING
The Internet is Not Real
PoetryTinged with blue light and red eyes, to the warm of heart. Thirteen months of poetic texts and thirteen illustrations. (También en Español: El Internet NO es Real)
