My story ain’t no story, but me
All stories begin with that little voice
in the throat, stucking like a stone,
shaking hearts and closed minds…
All stories have something to tell,
at least it’s worth to spell.
My story ain’t more enthusiastic,
nor less confused…
My story makes me die on the deepness,
and on the shores I’m still amused.
No certain destinations
can lead me somewhere.
I’m still there and there
enjoying the ugly fair.
Oh, the space, how small!
Finding myself would be hard,
even after a loud call.
Right or wrong,
weak or strong,
I’m clear about how I want to fall.
I have no story to write,
but the one in which
what I write, I want to be.
I have no more beautiful story,
but the one, in which I’m back to me…!