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Poem

In a city of shadows and flickering lights,
Where the lines between dream and reality are written in mist,
I wander through streets paved with unknown hopes,
With heavy steps of melancholy and thoughts drifting like clouds.
Here, in this realm of fragile illusions,
We awaken each dawn, prisoners of the daily storm,
In our hearts beats a clock of glass, to the rhythm of an old song,
That calls us to dance among the shadows of day and night.
From Monday to Friday, we sip from the black cup of wakefulness,
Caffeine, elixir of modern slaves,
Keeps us awake before the electronic altar, where we bow to the gods of labor,
Unaware that we are pawns in an endless game.
But on Friday evening, the curtain rises and we enter the carnival of forgetting,
Alcohol, silver elixir, caresses our weary souls,
We drown our frustration in waves of glass, chained in unleashed rhythms,
But the escape is illusory, a moment of freedom in another cage.
We have lost ourselves in the labyrinth of our own reflections,
In a society that dictates our steps with unseen whispers,
We live in the paradox of chained freedom,
Prisoners of our minds, dreamers in golden cages.
If you want to understand a society, look at its sacred drugs,
And you will see, in their alchemy, the truth about us,
We are a civilization that tolerates only what keeps us moving,
Caffeine for workdays, alcohol for nights of forgetting, and in between, an unfulfilled dream.
Touch my hand and feel the pulse of mystical melancholy,
Listen to my heart and you will hear an old song, the echo of an untold story,
We are those who dream of freedom in golden chains,
And thus, we close the circle, in an eternal dance of glass and smoke.

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