I feel like I’ve already said a lot,

so much, maybe too much.

Since I started writing,

day after day,

I’ve always had something to say.

But now,

I have a lack of ideas.

A void

Because I feel empty.

It’s like a weapon

That has run out of all the bullets.

But let’s think about something more peaceful, I don’t know:

a tree, with the branches now dry.

Now I will enjoy the passage of time,

the waves of the sea,

the wind blowin’,

and peace.

.

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