When the sky is heavy and all the stars sleep in my eyes, I am the princess of the clouds. Tears are my extension when the infinite is dark and even my pain stretches poems across the horizon. I listen to anguish bleeding while hatred sits between my trembling hands and a flower. But I smile, I just smile. Nobody can see what I feel or find my ulcerous heart in the desert.

When all the moons hate me, I drag melancholic rhymes out of simple words. I am nothing but a dead muse who closed silently the door towards eternity as agony had its eyes gouged out. What fate may bring to those whose hearts were eaten by time? What to expect when there is nothing else to hope for?

Clouds are in my sight as I walk leaving my mask behind. What am I supposed to find deep inside if I buried my heart and it I can’t find? How can I wear my soul if the abyss is so sweet, so seductive and divine? What can I do to resurrect if death is so delicious and sublime?