A forbidden stanza,
nonsensical in the middle of singing,
a rhyme without cause,
nor effects.
I'm not the one with the lost voice,
nor the one with named shelves ...
the streets don't even care my absence.
I have not lied to history,
nor have I built the scaffolding,
that leads to heaven.
I'm not the one of suicides,
nor that of perverse endings.
Neither the one of little revolutions,
that don't let us dream in new grooves.
I'm not the type,
that wastes time,
in metaphors of injury.
I have never sponsored bad dances,
nor have I waited for a kiss,
when the night was lost.
My name is not the one,
that is crossed out on the walls,
nor the one, that appears in the lists.
No, that's not me,
although it seems so close,
even though the faces are similar,
I am not the one they are looking for.
I don't know who I am either,
and I'm like this, uninhabited.
No, that's not me,
but if they insist...
Yes... I can be.

Unauthorized Copying Is Prohibited. Ask the author first.
Copyright 2020 LIFEINVADER
Published on Friday, July 31, 2020.     Filed under: "Personal" and "Poetry"
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