what we called
a life.
It can't be this...
I' m giong thru a tunnel
of despair.
Daily.
Emotionaly.
Grabed by the neck
for a so called love.
Instead of complete joy
I got a dash happiness
in a glass of impositions.
Alone.
Not even myself to
support me.
I'm lost.
Blind.
And amanzingly numb.
Stones by a drug
I don't want to take it.
Forced
to accept what I despise.
Taking a present.
for a future I deny.
Vasco Pompaelo*
