A few months and counting..

From the pills for the whispering
passing through alcohol and suicidal thinking
sickened by my own hands
taking pictures with black and white filter
no need colours when you only see gray
but this kind of certain
it’s like fake chinese porcelain
pretty to our eyes, but fragile like our hearts
and we keep walking through barbed wire
or broken glass without shoes
taking this pain like truth
and I running through
hoping the end of this nonsense amount of lines
bad humor, bad rhymes about bad vibes, stupid bad humor
concealing the truth of this tumor
that keeps my lungs full of this poison
spread into my heart
that seems to want lose
what a beautiful disgrace
put an end in this sadistic plan
of anxiety and depression have making all these years
prove me wrong it’s so amazing, awesome
that I love to laugh about it
a few months and counting…


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