Click here for italian version: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/06/03/poesianon-lo-so-2/
And at the end,
you realize one thing,
which may seem terrible …
that happiness can be a lie,
that the truth is that you can never be satisfied,
that happiness is anyway,
get what you want.
And it doesn’t matter if it hurts you,
if it’s masochistic,
if it takes you too long, too long.
If you don’t though,
it’s a bit like lying to yourself,
looking for happiness in what you don’t really want.
Maybe it’s better to be a “masochist”,
embracing something full of thorns,
rather than creating some false happiness.
Now the dreams I hold them tight in my hand,
in the drawer, they might find them,
when I leave the house.
Original version here:https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/06/03/poesiaspecchi/
Sometimes we are nothing but mirrors,
mirrors of insecurities,
mirrors of the pasts of others,
of their fears and uncertainties.
Often we find ourselves with faults that are not ours,
we are nothing but mirrors
of ex-girlfriends, ex-boyfriends,
we passed, agglomerations.
Often, they don’t see us as we are,
but like misdeeds,
caused by previous events,
where we are not responsible,
we were not frequent.
Click here for italian/Original version: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/06/03/poesianon-lo-so/
“I don’t know,”
sometimes, life is not knowing,
is not doing,
it’s full of “no”.
Life is a doubt,
we’ll try to do something about,
For every that cut me out.
All of those doubts,
You don’t know how to solve,
sometimes just enjoy the fact,
that you don’t know,
It’s a good thing to evolve.
You’re caught up,
between what you are,
and what you wanna be.