we wander as soul butchers through the canvas of the unknown
broken glasses under our feet
loads of doubts in our hearts
and just one fragile fragment of hope
the awareness that the art of existence it is not confined in a beautiful face
though it is present and persistent
in the mutilated and abused hearts of these suburbs of the world
where, confined in the golden exile of wailing our truth, we roam
painter please,
paint us peace!
Marco Bo
http://cantidallaperiferiadelmondo.blogspot.it/2016/02/pittore-per-favore.html
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