Hope is a flower stored in the box
Like Schrödinger's cat, time runs
What is it?
Talked to my friends, talked to myself
Humans blame when something makes them feel unstable
But that's not me
Be complicated, said to be my problem, melancholic, suicidal-depressive as surnames
We follow our instincts, we can't blame nature for the fear of our hearts.
The truth, I can't finish this poem
I can't finish something that never existed
Something that just lives in my mind
The only thing there I can do is: start over
& to look at the cat's eye again. M
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