Everything happens inside, slowly, without haste... do we realize it?

[Marcus Nalgaber]

Everything happens inside, slowly, without haste... do we realize it?

 

 

I refuse sadness
and I look for the door 
to the other side
but pain is a key
that everything hidden 
It opens

Sadness made of acts
that move in memories
putting in my retina
a myriad of pale colors
with the taste of salt

And despite my smile 
that becomes independent
staying on my lips
with the pride of madness

everything happens inside
slowly
without haste

Sadness made of acts
that move in memories
putting in my retina
a myriad of pale colors
with the taste of salt