I mystify my tragedy into my poetry
I become words and ethereal thoughts
Delusion is my name since I live of illusions
While the frozen truth manifests through a stormy wind
Faraway but not too much, there is my desire
The object of my obsession and passion
So close to me and yet a kind of distant
Hope is my name since I live of wishes
Call me a visionary and fool
But my spirit belongs to a storm bounding me
Like an invisible spiderweb in which I’m a captive
Sad and lonely, desperate and disheartened
So I’m writing my poem of self-introspection
Ready to fall down from a cliff of dreams
Until I reach the abyss of oblivion and emptiness
To declare myself a non-living creature striving to exist
I pretend to appear as a living person
Not revealing my mighty fantasy and extravagance
No one calls my name anymore
Although everyone sees me
Who can wonder what will be in the fate of the world
A realm of corruption and confusion
Where deception is served as the holy truth
And wisdom under the shape of violence
I mystify my tragedy into my dreams
Longings pierce me deeply
Until I bleed my soul out
Like an instantaneous rainstorm
Invisible to everyone
I wander in the night
Where darkness and solitude are my solaces
Probably envisioning everlasting love
Sombre whispers become numbed sighs
Nothing to cherish
Nothing to forget
Just instants of eternity lost in the infinite void
Call me when you see me in your dreams
Although you don’t know my name
Having seen me as an apparition
Soft is always the remembrance of you
Sleeping as the slumber possesses me
In its chaos and convulsions
I feel nothing more than a gentle cry
A cry to suppress my anguish and pang of love.
Elisabetta