I’m a disappointment

life is a disappointment,

but I’m sick of this tension,

I have been

too much, inside the depression.

I take responsibility,

to have hurt you,

though,

is the last thing I wanted to do.

Evidently,

I can be like that too,

but I knew it:

I’m imperfect,

i can’t really believe,

that everything is always fine, strictly speaking.

 

The fact is,

that the people who often stay,

are the ones I don’t want to have.

The ones I don’t love so much.

And instead,

the one I disappoint,

it was just the last

that I wanted to disappoint.

These are things that I do not evade,

all too often,

I imagine a naked body.

To be tightened,

while I sweat.

And all this is a mistake,

and it is a constant disappointment.

And it is continuous omission,

but he knows that I have not understood the mission.

I’m not alone,

making an account

of whom I have lost,

and who is left,

obviously wins, whoever dived,

in this meal.

I just need one person to come back,

even if I know well:

The situation is not good.

Italian version: https://loscrittorevolante.com/2021/07/20/poesiadeluso/

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