They say

Not to judge me,

not to justify me,

but they break the dick,

at every thought,

and they go away,

whenever they are not satisfied,

every time we fight.

Am I the “problem”?

Are they,

unable to maintain things?

I’m the one who breaks everything,

Or are they breaking me?



It’s me,

to “have” to be ashamed?

Maybe, you know,

At bottom,

I’m not so ashamed of the action,

but of the consequences.

After all,

an action, when you do it,

you don’t understand it, all the way.

And everything, slowly,


And now?

And now, I can’t tell you,

can you keep something?

Or maybe you don’t have to?

You know how to be ashamed,

or do you think you don’t have to do it?

Tell me,

I’m not there to not understand shit.

Follow me and share 🙂

And check Italian version, if you want: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/07/29/poesiavergogna/

Thank you!



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