The thorns of anguish pierced my heart
Making it bleed in dismay
In a distressing struggle in my sleepless nights
I wouldn’t feel any pleasure anymore
In this short existence of mine
And the only certitude remained was a frantic dream
A foolish dream made of many other dreams
A multitude of hallucinations
Ready to make me feel a joyful fool
I’m not of this world of homologated humans
I’m made of dreams and illusions
I’m not a human at all, being an ethereal creature of the night
Hiding under the blankets of my bed
I pretend to be the queen of my realm of ether and chaos
Avoiding to accept reality and its social conventions
I write because I feel there is no other way to express my inner world
In trivial and merry moments of my life
Oftentimes, I wouldn’t feel any pleasure anymore
Nor sadness, nor dread, nor longings
For I had become nothing more than a spirit
I floated endlessly through the enchanted woods
Among elves and fairies whispering me secrets
While I was feeling blissful and bewildered at the same time
The thorns of anguish pierced my heart again and again
Until the last drop of blood would drip on the cold soil
In my secret garden of dreams and nightmares
In my arcane heaven, illusions bloomed alongside despair
And I would have become an impalpable and gloomy shadow
Incapable of feeling sorrow and mirth
I had forgotten the hypocrisy of the disowned reality
Because I was so much lost in my metaphysical realm
An intricate labyrinth created by my own mind
I became a phantom bound to an endless twilight
I was a creature of eternal dusk
Fading into the hush of the night mist
The moon cast silver woes
In my everlasting fantasy
Forever dissolved in nothingness.
Elisabetta
