Sometimes like a pig (Poetry) - Written by @nachomolina
Sometimes like a pig
Author: @nachomolina
Original Poetry
I've lived slowly and come far
a storyteller
does not know the end
you are not interested in being the first
Before I had to bite the dust,
stay behind the egomaniac;
I saw him buy the seat
with the diaspora of its egotism
I know the absent gray of the rainbow
the one that nobody sees,
because they don't understand the multicolour
look where there is not,
that's why the sky is so empty
everyone looks at it, nobody wants to fill it
Standing on the mud,
some will feel ashamed
but then his footprints marked
would be still life art
If pigs could fly
no one would look at the sky anymore,
the mud would be so valuable
that everyone would like to be like a pig
will break the silence
but more they are silent
so as not to appear foolish
accused of murder,
for killing your own feelings
tired of hearing those voices that spoke to him
The Wanderer
never stops,
as long as there is a world
your steps will not be enough
No one accuses him
to roam the world
and leave their mark
where the others don't dare
a pen
the miserable and
you will read some of their misery
can tell your story
immersed in filth,
for him, his greatest wealth...
It would be something ignoble
write half a poem,
the dead poet, of his fame
never finds out
and although no one knows
what he wanted to say,
even so it will be valued for an incomplete work
goes after the honorific,
sitting on the bench mocking
because his opaque voice could not express what he wanted...
I've lived slowly and come far
when injustice knocks on my door,
pen and inkpot are my only tools
A storyteller does not know the end,
you are not interested in being the first,
on the canvas of life,
I, when I see the mud, I roll like a pig...
[Original Content]
@nachomolina
venezuela
2020
| Greetings, I hope you enjoyed reading. |  |
|---|