So Many Times I Wanted It To Be Dead
And you can't paint him a laugh
his face is a metal curtain
with attached sign -
no emotions allowed
you can't
nor you know how
and you gladly would
breathe life into those cells
the same way that life spat in your face
acknowledgment of successfully driven tokens at belonging columns
and you, men
women
don't be mad
because yours are misplaced all over that ludo board
it was a bad, bad idea
to implement that rule of maneuvering the game according to rolls of a single die
countless thoughts
questions
from the other side only
crystally voiceless visage
in the course of the night, a view flies there
where ripped breaths on a baby's mattress
quieten the trepidation down
I'm a bad person
I really am
but if tomorrow I learn how to smile instead of him
maybe my name will get to Saint Peter's list
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