Sunday, May 1, 2011

This is it.

This is an essay of a false independence day.
This is a story of a fictitious arrivederci.
This is a script of a giant leap,
to the last wine I wish I sipped.

I am a free little bird
in a gigantic cage.
I am a lovely little dirt
of your golden page.
This is my enormous sea
of your small glass of water.
Where I run and flee
before turning into an ember.

This is an essay of a false independence day.
This is a story of a fictitious arrivederci.
This is a script of a giant leap,
back to the first wine you handed me to sip.

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