Poems | Poemas


Most of my life

I’ve been all alone.

Existence is a strife

tearing me to the bone.

My friends are few,

and family, untrue.

I had my companions,

all them long lasting,

my wonderful sirens

who ended my fasting

periods and despair

of belonging nowhere.

My mind is wounded.

Nothing too serious.

My scars are funded

as the ones of others.

Wrinkles in clay

from childhood to stay.

Highways of the unconscious

trigger emotional responses

no matter how rigorous

my knowledge of nuances

designing the brain

and my heart in pain.

You can not fly

whilst having no wings.

Most people deny

the physical rings

defining our soul,

will and call.

Saturday, 3rd June 2021


Por Nuno Neves

Autor, revisor de texto, ilustrador e compositor.

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