a bed that more than fall asleep,
saw him crash again last night.
don't dare close again your sight,
don't even blink, don't even try.
just get up, get up, get up. get up now!
but i think i will myself be alright
if i sit for a while in the corner
just let me think about my life
as a threshold for insanity
everything about this moment
is sacred.
and the man then grabs the white,
the pure white sheet of holy bed
and starts walking outside
naked body inside a cloud
the defined shape of
a man who never skipped a day in life.
a working class kind of damned hero
lacking everything but might
ever misunderstood
ever misdirected
ever undervalued
never unfold, never told
applause stops,
function goes,
and in his hand he holds no prices
no one is to pray, anymore
as he slowly walks inside
a large hall full of nothing but thin air
and he open doors in order and silence
like if he doesn't know whats inside them
like if they ever change
like if he doesn't do it every single day since he was born
door one shows a pile of fortune
more gold than a lifetime would take to make
or spend, for never a coin dared he ever waste
two is a legacy gallery
photos and pictures, a hall of fame
appearing young age
smiling and shaking the hands others;
the captain the farmer the soldier
the sage, the poet and his maid
three is the shore of a river
and at three he just stops and stares,
at the other side,
curse and litter.
this is not what it was supposed to
this is not what it used to be
this is a work for a single army
not a fate for a whole of me
what would happen if you stop, boatman?
they would eventually stop to die.
then why don't you go ahead and do it?
because then they would also stop to arrive.
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