Why I write

I write because the world is confusing

And my talk is a way to signify it

I write because somewhere

A child dies hungry

While we toast to daily small successes

Quenching other hungers

I write because right now

A man jumps from a bridge

Because he couldn’t understand the works

And he had to drink a lot

He had to run like crazy

Working like a slave

Earning money

And in the end, there was just him

Human, fragile, minimal, weary

Fighting the same fight

Caught on the ropes

I write because the day is a cell

With no door or window

And maybe I can knock down the walls

With the subtlety of a metaphor

Like a rose bleeding a landscape

I write as someone who shoots himself in the head

Waiting to live forever.