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Bruno Valente Poem
I felt murderous rage and suicidal impulses
and understood:
I’ll never be better!
I’ll just be able to pretend better.
My life will always be the second option.
I’ll never be satisfied
or happy
or at peace.
But I can find it,
make it.
I can look at the destination,
Not at the road.
And I can mold it,
Shape it.
And I felt comfort.
And for once,
I did not want to die,
just yet.
I wanted to die
with a purpose.
I always felt like I have no talent,
But what if this is my talent?
To know how to die.
Copyright © Bruno Valente | Year Posted 2026
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Details |
Bruno Valente Poem
There’s an emptiness inside me
That makes me hollow
But takes up space.
It crushes me internally,
Takes away my hunger
And doesn’t let me breathe.
I have to force my lungs
To take in the air
Like I’m mouth-feeding my inner child.
But all I take in
Is pain
that keeps me empty.
But then I find you again.
I feel your presence,
Even though we don’t belong
To each-other anymore
And I feel the colors
of your soul,
Even tho you don’t want me
Around anymore.
And then You look at me
Like I have never held you
And You speak to me
Like I’ve never heard you sing
And that pain fills me
But at least I’m not hollow
Anymore.
Copyright © Bruno Valente | Year Posted 2026
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