Vishakha

Those who dig to hide themselves

They stand

where the cliff ends

In the corner,

where the whole truth bends

Piled up by

the uncovered layer of lies

They stay, never the same,

they want to hide

The fist, once filled

with the sand of trust

Now, devoured by the emptiness,

moments lost in gusts

They hear them, as if,

they only live in silence

But they defy the glimpse of screech,

even when they feel some violence