I went to smoke
the umpteenth cigarette of the day of this long day that follows other endless days
do not know why the duration of the day seems to depend on people's unhappiness
...
they are more unhappy as time runs slowly ...
only time they run are those that accompany
that strip of smoke that suddenly comes out of my mouth and say that all
I repeated to stop smoking ...
but why do not you tell me to stop breathing?
not it be better?
sometimes I feel that my life is just the other
of trouble to my family ...
co-workers ....
the small circle of people who for one reason or another
are part of my life is a mess ... I think ....
I was born wrong ... I say ..... Today
of my bed watching a chimney smoke that
envy ..
no one tells you to stop no one tells him to open the window it's hurry up because he smokes ....
not tremble
not afraid
has no thoughts and no pain
am so tired and I know this will be another long night
One day ...
is a day I will be happy ....
will smoke a cigarette and smoked
will be the last light will go out in the air ... as did my father
when will this day?
too late .... sure ...
I have the impression that it voli via tutto il dolore
tutti i dispiaceri
e i sogni mai realizzati
basta.....
si basta scrivere...
non dovrei farlo
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