A creature with the deal to suffer
That's the natural part of its nature
Self-destroying load in mind
Completed by contributing space around
The dreams are lost forever
"No, not in this life", voices whisper from around ("Machines won't work for you") ("You've missed your opportunity, it's too late now")
Why? What is the purpose of such self-destructive, never-good-enough monster?
Immature of love, written off to solitude
Might a snatch of blessing redeem & fill up an entire life? (Might it happen twice?)
Is it all that matters now?
Should it go for it?...
YOU ARE READING
Random thoughts pretending to be poems
PoesíaPoems written in post-covid era, when my writing style had suddenly changed a lot, significantly affected and inspired by Lana Del Rey's Violet book and her post-NFR albums and by other circumstances still unknown to me.
