The snow... hides everything.
The snow that can conceal someone’s secret.
More silent than the softest rain,
it falls like the craftiest of thieves.
Sometimes, it hides truths even more horrible than lies,
erasing the traces of pains that should never be forgotten,
concealing the mistakes no one dares to admit,
as if the weight of the world could be buried beneath its cold, white layers.
Footprints that should never have existed.
The snow, with its unyielding cold, erases stories,
whispers secrets buried in its flakes,
and buries sins the passage of time refuses to carry.
But when the sun finally rises,
and the flakes begin to melt,
what was hidden comes to the surface,
as if the past, no matter how it tries to hide, can never be forgotten.
And not even the snow can erase what has already been lived.
YOU ARE READING
illusions
Poesia"This is where I write down my thoughts and ideas about various topics that pique people's curiosity."
