On the balcony of my conscience

spring calls me to jump through a window
on the soft grass full of wishes of glass –
in some corner, a ticket for luck is waiting for me
to run under sheets washed in awaken beats

Wandering around balconies of my conscience
running through its parks to reach those sparks –
sparks of wind in my hair while driving long roads
of memories and words toward some new worlds.

Seeking for reason not to worry in unpredictable tunnels
of approaching adorned with colors of hoping –
dressed in silly clothes of the boem my blood flushes
through my eyes all the pain I feel, all my cries.

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