You want beautiful words that set you free.

A little magic pill telling you it's all over.

Somebody's rocking his head against the wall,

forgetting who he was just a little while ago.

That balcony isn't empty anymore

and no longer belongs to the rich,

it yells its own rants to incautious people on the streets.

No harm was ever done without some fun to it.

If you wanted

to escape this solitude

without acknowledging the pain,

staring at the screen and smirking at the end,

waiting for the claps at eight without shouting in despair,

and shaping the day to the wills of the same,

then, I am not for you.