Page 73 - The_Lizard
P. 73

The laurel tree that once sustained me
              is now an abyss
              from which I scream and fall.


              The walls of my infancy are rubbish
              nothing lasts
              but only memory is enough.

              But even if that isn’t possible
              from the ruins I will rise.

              Let me become the brush
              the world my canvas
              my essence, my poetry.








































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