13/12/2009
“A hard but wonderful time
endet at once.
The reason was credulity.
What would have been,
I have to ask,
over and over,
if everything went perfect?
Would’ve had a child,
not prepared, not ready.
This loved child,
growing in a broken world
full of money,
climatic catastrophies,
where it can’t see but clouds,
clouds of grey soup.
I wouldn’t want that.
No one knows.
Was is the last chance?
Stop crying for hope
in a life as a puppet,
I lose interest,
everything starts anew.
And forgotten was story
I was to tell you.
But at the end, it’s okay.
Nothing happened,
no risk.. no fun?”
—
a poem by “coppucchira”, about a woman who thought about having someone’s children
“It’s because of the child…” is the title
mihocat
