Zywa
The light shifts through the room
In bed I don't imagine
to be a warrior, I lie back
and let the disaster year occur
the inconveniences of my body
when waking up at night
and when it's time
to pee, to wash, to shake
up the pillows and to drink
something to start
the day, the light
that shifts through the room
and the visitors, the friends
who love me, just happy
to be with me, almost carefree
about my fate, just being themselves
as good fairies, strong fairies
of flesh and blood like me
in the survival game
I press weakly the hand
upon my hand, it's the last
thing it comes down to
|