Crying to death until I lose all my fears
Crying to death until my heart bleeds the last drop of grief
I don’t remember my name anymore
I come from a faraway realm where dreams are forbidden
I wander astray in the labyrinth of my bleeding heart
Not anymore comforted by solace and delight
I strive to find refuge in my secret realm of illusions
Because I love to lie to myself with shameless boldness
Because I love to fill my heart with deception
I’m untamed and wild, and I don’t bow to any convention
It’s impossible to fit my soul inside a box of comfort
Too many thoughts crowd my mind
Too many emotions crowd my heart
I’m a paroxysm, a burst of madness wrapped in the quietness of my sorrow
I love to wear exclusively beautiful vintage-style dresses and ballerinas
I love to wear red lipstick and red nail polish
I never cut my long blond hair because they keep my little secrets for years discretely
I love books but sometimes I keep them closed as if I would like to guess what is going to happen next in the story
I mainly write night and day and I cannot see myself not writing even a day
That would be like asking me not to breathe
I suffer in silence when I am home alone so nobody can discover it
I never plan what I’m going to write because I believe in improvisation in poetry
I love cloudy skies but not the rain because it makes me feel miserable
I love to be in love but I also love to be loved and adored
Solitude and books are my best companions, indeed the only ones
I adore art in all its forms, music, literature and art
Sometimes I prefer to write in a direct way and simple style without labyrinths of metaphors
Crying to death is a way to express myself when I’m suffering unbearably
And when I don’t feel understood and seen by the other creatures of this planet or when memories come to visit me
After all, we suffer mainly because of indifference or tainted interactions with other entities or because of something we don’t want to remember
I feel like an alien creature not belonging to standard society and as an introvert it’s very difficult being part of this messed ocean where I never felt comfortable. So bizarre and odd I’m in the other’s sight that I cannot blend with them.
Therefore, I dwell in my loneliness where I have built my castle of dreams.
Elisabetta
