if i were a bird
I would choose to be a man
who longs to fly,
in the dissatisfied they nest -I suppose-
men and birds
alike, not being what one is,
gray metamorphosis of what
existing
supplies the sky with mud,
turn the cloud into stone,
Dead Life, Sinister Love,
wear out the sole of these wings
that they always carry
his laces untied.
elespacioreal
men and birds
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espacioreal
A veces leo.
elespacioreal
Magician
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