Poetry

Walking through the flames

There is always something heroic to get up from a difficult situation.

But you can have a thousand people around, and nobody will lend you a hand to help you out. Not at all. It is quite the other way around.

People will look on the other side and pretend they did not notice you lying on the floor and dying.

Remember one thing, though: when you get better (if you get better), those same people will be here to cheer with you and tell you how proud they are that you made it.

Moral of the story: do not wait for them to open a beer. You do not need anyone to have a drink.

The luxury of a glass of water

It was still dark outside. The window was slightly open. A new day was about to come. Every new day was only a pale copy from the yesterday’s template. What new? Nothing much, maybe a new pain. The lower back? The legs? The joints? It does not matter anymore.


A big mug of coffee will put all of this behind. Why am I having everything that I was dreaming of and still, the happiness seems to not be around? Maybe I should change my state of mind? Maybe… but, easy to say, harder to think. Working hard to see your bank account growing bigger and bigger and, in exchange, what do I get? White hair, dark circles. I live the dream of the poor. But its smile seems realer than the one on my face. Maybe this is the real price of things: time, health, and sleep.