COLLECTION OF ME

1.

GREEN STARS
I'm living in a big city now
I gotta put some fake stars on my fake sky
Cause right now outside, everything is too blurry
It's like they try to get away from the darkness so badly
That they decided to give up on the real stars
Cause the stars didn't shine enough
To keep the darkness away
And I feel like, "well, sometimes you gotta pay the price"
I would never give up on the stars because I'm afraid of the darkness
That's why they shine so bright to me
Cause I understand they need the darkness to be espectacular
Even though most of them may be dead by now
The fact that their light keeps raging on
Throughout the unknown
Makes me want to continue to believe in my dreams
And if for it I gotta live in the city where I can't see them perfectly
I can, at least, attach some fake ones to my ceiling
To remind myself I'm not alone
And that some darkness sometimes comes for good.

. W .
Why was I born so ambicious if I can't have what I want?
Today I realized I can't dream anymore,
This is now something out of reach for me.
I believe everybody has born for something,
But figuring out for what is it, It's the hardest part.
I wish I knew which is my destination. I envy people that know theirs.

I've been lost in the woods trying to find my way out,
Running through the jungle attached to thorns that ripped out my clothes,
I walk in circles 'cause I have no clue of what is a trail
And I have to keep an eye open at night while asleep
'Cause it's treacherous to trust confidence around here.

There are places I already know too well,
Either because I've visited too many times before or
Because I've once visited and I remember it's no good going back.
I should know where is exactly every single one,
But they changed as the wind,
I never know where is North or South, East or West.
There are days the soil is dry, in other days it is wet, in other it is soaked.
On hot days I feel as if my skin is getting
Out of my body and I almost help it.
On cold days I wish I had plenty more skin.

I wish I could know if I'm ever going to get out,
I dream about this every night with my closed eye.
I feel like wolves are watching me, right now.
I feel like they've been here for a long time observing my behavior
Judging my attitude.
They are comparing me all the time
With people that even they do not know.

These wolves, they are a lot and they switch shifts,
I can't tell their difference between one another.
Sometimes they sleep weeks and I think they're gone,
That's when I try to escape more often,
But when this hibernation period is over,
They come back, I have no peace any longer.

I ' m l o c k e d i n

The saddest is, I guess, a part of me wants
To stay tied up here, with all this threat.
It's a threat, It's stockholm syndrome,
It's the wind that blows to directions I don't know,
It's this judgmental animals I can't live without.
It seems so melancholically well prepared for me,
A field projected to try to want to leave,
But actually to want to stay and suffer and
To beg for a help that's never coming
And never listening.

And I don't know why,
Why doesn't anybody come and save me?
Why doesn't anybody come and kill this goddamn wolves?
Why doesn't anybody come and set it on fire at once?

I would prefer to perish like a fading picture forgot in a box beneath my bed.
I would prefer to expire like damaged goods put in the trash.
I would prefer to fall like the leaves on the autumn,
That besides its beauty, are dead.
I would prefer to melt away like an ice cream that I,
As a child, wanted so bad.

I would prefer anything but this.
'Cause nobody's coming to save me.
Not even a single person knows that I need help.
'Cause the wolves and the woods do not look anything like danger
Less likely an enemy.

They do look like me.
They are, for sure, me.
Nobody's gonna save me from me.
Nobody's gonna shoot a wolf or even set fire to the woods,
'Cause they walk around with my face, they walk around with my face.

I am the mouse in a maze, a maze I made it myself.
I'm half something true, the other half is something imaginary.
And how it hurts to be always half!
Half of wolves.
Half of woods.
Half of a person.
Half of a writer.

H. A. L. F.
Of everything.

AM I...?
Why do things keep getting obsolete so fast? Why do humans activities become something so boring so often so early? Even the most normal stuff, like for me the process of writing. I just love that, but sometimes it goes right through me, passes by like it's not such a important thing to do, and when I say "love", I mean it.
I love to express feelings, my feelings, on the notes in my cell phone or my journal.
Paper and pen, it's all I have to save this world, to save myself from this world, and nowadays I look at it and ignore it.
And at this moment, this precious epifany, I ask my myself what the hell am I doing? What's going on in my head? Am I losing who I am? Am I letting the robotics dominate my life on demand? I'm losing control of it. Am I losing myself, the one I've been fighting to become, that one person I truly knew about or, at least, was trying to know? Am I losing my essence or am I just blinded?
I take off this damn eyebands, this shit that keeps stoping me from seeing the real things, what actually matters. And now I wanna ask you, are you living by zeros and ones, by prices and labels, by masks and prints, by lonely big houses and endless parties filled with imaginary friends?
Tell me if you are, and if you know the answer and it it's yes, grab my hand we can work through this, if you know the answer and it it's yes but you refuse to believe it, I'm sorry you're wrong for thinking that way and I hope you find a way back to your own you.
Do not accept to live in the shadow because you're just too afraid of showing a little bit of kindness.