An interrupted thought, a text half-read,
Trust in poisonous rumors,
And suspicions’ sincere advice
Paint my portrait
In advance.

I am not like that, but on the screens
Of pleasant expectations of me
I find myself in bruises and wounds.
And still have persecutions to wait for.

I provoked
And allowed
Calamities to break through —
To share happiness
I turned to friends.
I trusted the wrong ones,
Did not account for
The weakness of the sluices —
Is it not MYSELF I should pity?