Poem, poems, poetry

THE AXIETY

No friends or rather

Friends-enemies

And I am myself

a friend-enemy

To myself and them

Could we escape?

Hide in the forest of Hamstead Heat

He doesn’t  understand

Enough of poetry, I say

Poetry is for the cowards or those who cannot speak

Those strong personas

those narcissists

Are putting their heavy shoes on me

I hate them

I would like to go but I can’t

Cause I am seized by anxiety 

like under the Russian invasion

It seizes me 

What is a soul and what about it

It pulls me into a murky pond. No!

Just stay still and wait

How can we stop the tornado of hate?

Let’s make a hedge

A nice hedge sparkled with magic,

a hedge nobody can’t kick

neither be a Russian or an Ukrainian

A beautiful hedge 

With no crossings

A labyrinth for the mind

Take of  your heavy shoes

Back off to your polygon

You bastard

It’s a sanctuary

I hate you 

I do I do I do

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