tears run on my hands
and lay on the soft paper
weak... as I am

while my napkins get filled
with the pain of always being immersed
in saturated words
in a big list of abandonment
in an opened mind for
every kind of misery.

tear drops lay down on my verse
and the blood pollocks in the tormented parts
of a body shattered by depression.

they believe they run to light, to a memorable
and happy ending
but they get stuck on the paper
just like memories - to a mind...
lost in the sorrow of a non existent existence