behind



What can you find? If

among words there is only a

established routine of papers.

It's just your fault, because

fault is the name of the

first one,

that one that stepped on

its own curiosity.

That one, who made its desires

an unstable routine.

It won't be the same tomorrow.

It's a body,

it's its eyes, its blind

eyes carrying fears

among naked trees.


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