you are a drop

by these forgotten suburbs
innocent spikes of silence fall on your face

yo try  to cry but you cannot
it's too late

when you were young you did not recognize them
cracks of happiness in the continuum of space and time

you comfort yourself in thinking that you came to the world for this
and you cannot feel guilty and you cannot cry

tears are like rain drops already evaporated on the ground

you are a drop
you will be mud
in the middle the air you breathed
wasted, all that happiness you did not recognized

Marco Bo