Wide trapped hope,
closed under an empty language
where symbols are attaching sorrow
from fluid meanings,
as the shape of an abortive kiss
the lonely years sentence
running into the deep wide
Millions of voices surrounding
trying to love us too.
And the bone of the soul,
where is trapped the hope,
is an ugly speak,
an ugly talk,
automatic speech of fear and pain.
There was a shinning sun inside this body
But now is a darkness mirror
a darker sight than the water of hate:
who will forgive the tender destroyed?
when do we met the calm silence of peace?
Why do we forget the happiness light?
No one will hear our time
frustrated as a bullying child
or even worse
crumbling as a wet piece of cookie.