Quit
I often thought "I quit"
but, what do you want to do?
I don't think I'll change.
I don't want to have children
and it's far better this way,
the sun awaits me drunk
of my crooked dreams,
white dirty spot
on the glass of conformity.
Crying, banging fists,
child become old man
of malice and tricks.
I feel the night explode,
castles of matches
already lit and smoking,
the power of the dream is always in me.
Projects never finished,
diesel for engines
of mechanical butterflies
with wings of rags
sewn with screams
that I cry against the wind.
I feel lonely
even if I'm with you,
you can't do anything,
I like it this way.
Quit.
I quit everything,
I leave everything to you,
I press the button
and I'm down again.
It costs me to proceed
in a straight line,
I am diagonal,
I was born this way.
And the last thing I have to say,
even if you don't want to hear it,
is that I already know all the answers
that you will argue
I say already "you're right"
and we don't think about it anymore.
This post is part of the 5 Minute Freewrite Contest.
This is also done with The Most Dangerous Writing App and only a little editing for typos.
All images are my own unless otherwise cited.
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