To write a poem properly
That is my dream
But I can't even
Remove my mask
I don't even dare
To think quietly

All my poetry is failure
Spies that pretend
To be activists
A violent movement
A laceration
That bleeds black bile

Violence circle my mind
Like vultures around corpses
The sky is touched
By the redness of my cheeks
And I end up crying
Until night comes

What remains of my poems
Are dead organs
Words that fail at being words
Mouthful gibberish
What's left of my tears?
Acid rain

Poetry is a world.
Enlightened people
Are its dwellers.
Not all dwellers are poets

Depression is numbness
Anxiety is pain
When they are mixed
It is like fire and rain
Except the fire never goes out
And the rain only becomes heavier