Fucking years
We are a sad generation, I would say on the verge of falling, on the verge of life, on the verge of death
the ones among us who graduated, they are now regretful and full of fears
strangers overwhelmed by these fucking years
Always complaining about a world who killed us
about a journey that never started or never ended
perfectly comfortable shutting ourselves up
waiting for something better to come
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
My sister-in-law has three kids and a malignant cancer to beat
she is also forty and so strong and so brave
I'm ashamed of the lack of courage I see!
for noble things I'll save my tears, I let you cry these fucking years
We never know when we are ready, I mean ready to die
we just perceive that should be part of our time
but we certainly feel is too early, so many things still to accommodate
when we understand that everything has been planned yet, it's too late
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
'Why don't we manage a little farm in the countryside?
you know just to be closer to the earth, far from here!
coming back to true values, all around big green trees…
to wash away these fucking years'
I've thought of it too. Does this mean to run away?
Is it too dangerous changing the system from the inside?
too much involving, too much contributing...
who's going to see us dancing in the woods all alone?
sing with me 'Don't let them have their way, there is no rule we must obey'
Am I part of all of this? Am I still belonging to me?
All I want is to find myself again, partially new
possibly complete
poem by Ilaria Boffa
Added by Poetry Lover
Comment! | Vote! | Copy!
