What if the earth falls on me burying me?
what if in that vertigo of almost dying,
my lips draw the scream,
and nobody listens to it?
And when the tombstone, made of ice,
creaks on the edges of my grave,
the world will be silent forever,
and no one will know that in my lungs,
there is still air and in my heart life.
And when the night falls,
and my numb fingers caress the box,
the prison containing me,
silence will hold my timid sound,
and my scratches won't even arrive,
to the stony ears of the satues.
further down the abyss,
how deep my grave hides?
I was buried alive
without anyone ever knowing ...
...that I still breathe....