I woke up to the sound
of a morbid musician,
who had chosen to reveal
his inner outside my window.
The sun was slowly gaining strength
and came through the specks of the fainted
rose painted shutters.
The world of mine was concealed,
no one would be able to see behind the artful wooden shutters.
Yesterday had been a unpardonable fatality.
Now I was childishly stretching my legs, playing with the covers.
I couldn’t forget about the ocean of my dreams and yesterday.
I was the shepherd, and the fragrance of concealment led me to
this hazy writing and the fields of nonsensical novelty.