All the people walking by

The night falls on our hearts

singing to us in the dark

shades in our head

Lines becoming scars

Of the persons we used to be.

The day, today, tastes like the wind blowing

Freezing our body,

making us tear, in today’s freezing morning.

And there is no warmth in our tears.

And the people, all the people walking by:

Who are these people? Why do they all cry?

The street, the street is blurry,

and the light liquifies in its smell.

“None of this is ours!”,

someone yells.

“We teared our lights out

when that day, our night fell!”

and no more tears, no more light

just a little star shining red.

And the wind? The wind blows again

over the loud crowd,

flowing out my eyes,

flowing out to the end,

and our mother,

and our father,

and our friend,

tear away too.

Our people, the people we walked away from…

We still remember you.

And the smoke, the smoke rises from our little red star,

shining red between our fingers,

and our memories blown away

and the bitterness still lingers,

and our eyes, our eyes reflect that light,

the one light that we have left.

A moment away from being a children

A little bright light shines red

in the black flames, of a white lie

to ourselves

no home, my friend,

no home where to come back.

Giovanni Guicciardi