that the soul pierces,
and everything envelops,
with wild impetus.
The mind prepares, then,
on her face to release
bitter salty tears
that spread out
little by little,
toward the light
The Cry of the Soul
it's even more cruel
because closes itself,
without words.
Therefore
I do not want any more
of melancholy dress,
as if you were wearing,
an evening dress,
which is not good anyway,
because out of place
for the occasion.
I
cannot,
actually I don't want to
finish Mickey Mouse
eliminated by hand
of a mischievous cat
or by means of poison.
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@copyright
Author Stefano Capasso
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