The stars are my freckles
The mountains my knees
The clouds are my eyebrows
My spit makes the seas.

My hair is the grass
The bushes, the leaves
My nails the glass
Stolen by thieves.

My tears are the raindrops
My skin is the dirt
My mouth is a cave
The pigments of the flowers are the same as my shirt.

My left nostril is the sun
My right is the moon
Under one you shall bathe
And the other lovers swoon.

My neck is the trees
And their branches that grow
My hips are hills
And my dandruff the snow.

The rivers are my veins
And the rocks are my ears
My eyes are the poles
And my wrinkles the years.

My bones are the plates
My nose is a cliff
My heart is the core
Born on February the fifth.

Every morning I sleep with a frown
Each night I wake up feeling down

My dreams commited suicide
And soon after were joined by my pride
Fortune, on my shores, reaches in low tide
And of life I only see the back side

I calm the pain with injections of hope
To delay the urge, to keep away from the rope
But soon I will no longer cope
Ending my days is the epilogue of this scope

Because life is enjoyed through senses
And mine, to feel joy, have to jump fences
But jumping is vain though my repetitive offences
True smiles on my face are high expenses

I try to forget, but I forgot how
And soon I will say ciao
I've already chosen my bough
Where I will say "pain, do not follow me now"
Because if death is the enemy, I'll be a pow

I no longer can gad
You may say I am cad
Yet of dying I am glad
And to this poem, I want to add
"Mother, I love you so don't be sad
Father, forgive me and don't be mad
Friends, you were the best thing I had"