The well of poetry is dry
And the oasis
Who was once blooming around
Dead

Where is the rain?
At least the soft wind
The brings hopes of verses

Where is the night
That at least
Cools the burning sands
Of thoughts

Lost in the desert...
Of poemless dreams

Sometimes I feel a bit lost
Sometimes I feel like trying to try to live
As if life was no more than a series of trial and error
As if the only thing I´m able to do is try to try
And then I feel hopeless
And then I feel useless
And then I feel
And then
And then
Nothing
Sometimes I feel as if I live in someone else´s dream
Sometimes I feel as if my life was made of tiny moments of passion
As if every moment of passion were followed by a moment of infinite sadness
As if the dreamer of my life was spending too much time awake
And then I feel I should not be a tiny part someone else´s dream
And then I feel I should be my own dreams
And then everything feels like as if in a dream