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Celso Moskowitz
Poems
Sep 2018
Sell our Souls
They will tell you
nothing
and then say
you just don’t
get it.
And most of the times,
you will believe
them
for they have big
words
and big
names
and big
bank accounts
and big
wikipedia entries.
In some corner,
somewhere,
a soundless voice screams
meaning
to no one
the hands of the clock may stop,
the loneliness
never does.
Written by
Celso Moskowitz
29/M/Portugal
(29/M/Portugal)
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