Poesia (21.6)

Ticking Clock

Won’t show

My pale face

To no shallow

Mirror.

Shan’t I live

With the mourning

Of solitude

And my desperate attempt

For clarity?

Could I choose

A path?

A safe one,

Please,

Good goddess,

Show me

A safe path

Upon which I can lay

My wings

And rest;

Disarm them

From my bleeding back

And jump into salvation

Without no further guilt,

Without feeling holy

And yet human.

Can I feel exhausted

Already?

These cigarettes

Won’t kill myself

Alone.

For dead I am

Since my birth,

For death has laid

His wings

Before

I had the chance

To do as such

Myself.

Should I

Keep on

Flying?