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.