I fear what people call
Adult life, that makes the
Problems, so sharp, until
They materialize.
My perception
Of this estranged world,
Incomplete, as the girl writes,
Sat down on a comfortable
Flat.
Pum! Clap!
Protests I hear in my country
Long forgotten by the world
And the ones it birthed.
Until they
Had a dream where there
Was more to hear.
I think we made it, for once,
The country won, and so I am
Enlightened, inspired by their force,
Inspired to write it down.
One battle won. Toot toot!
In her balcony she writes down her heroes
And that love for a generation
That someday might be
A democra-cy.
Aheeee!
She hears a woman scream,
A few floors up.
Nature has gotten used
To her loud cry,
And her unborn child,
You can already hear his
Scarce cry.
Weep! Weep!
I’d love it if she made it,
But is it enough to wish?
The girl sneaks a glimpse at her city
Where sobs and cries fuelled by hunger appear,
For life, for second chances,
For a future of fear.
The girl in the balcony crushed to the floor,
For her poems can’t hold
The pain she observes in her estranged world.
The poems speak for themselves
And wish, that at the end of the day
They can fall asleep.
So that, perhaps tomorrow,
More will make it.
Matty said,
I’d love it if we made it,
And I too, would love it
If someday, we could make it,
Out of here, onto a sort of utopy.
And I think we will,
If people keep singing,
Even in their dreams.