Garderobe

My feet have never chased an unfazed soul
My impassiveness is slightly worse
Once a mortal neglects my cherished care
I ice up like the coolest glacier on Earth
And flush amity leftovers down the garderobe*

*garderobe: a term used to indicate a castle toilet

La poesia appartiene a tutti.
Impregna gli occhi dei sognatori,
Ma non sempre fiorisce in versi.
Alcuni cercano delle risposte,
E la stesura regala certezze.
Altri rispettano la sua caducità
E la complessa intimità, in silenzio.
C’è chi è soggetto alla verecondia,
E si nasconde dietro a patine malinconiche.
C’è chi ricerca la comprensione nel prossimo,
E condivide le perplessità più inasprenti.
Ma rimane il fatto che la poesia,
All’aperto oppure nella sua segretezza,
Appartiene all’essenza di chiunque.

Melancholic eyes, soaked in poetry
Dreaming of adventurous overturns
In a world that forgot how to beam

There was a time I felt ashamed of my romantic nature
I kept the beauty to myself, behind an apathetic veil
So typically adolescent
Though how can anyone remain uncaring
In front of unpredictably rough waters
Yet so charmingly splendid

No one warned me that aging implies the spirit’s convolution
I have always fancied order and the ability to identify my traits
Not for a label crave or shortage in individuality
Rather a longing for anatomizing and studying myself

I love being encircled by miscellaneous souls
The ones who spur me to be more spontaneous
I’ve always been more inclined to reticence
And nourishment of my precious moments alone
But now I know that the key is within finding a balance
To be equally pleasant to others while respecting the freedom of your soul

I learned how to live hand in hand with my intricacy
For there was a time I felt lonely and misunderstood
Now I know it is wasteful attempting to be fathomed
And subduing your spirit just to end up bitterly unheard

Sometimes you have to touch the lowest point
Face failure and despondency
To wake up from that fairytale dream
And start breathing the present
With smart yet eagerly childish eyes

Dreams

Dreams play with your desires
and enact the perfect plot.
They make you hibernate
and transiently leave your truth to rot.

I am a light wave struggling against a tornado
All this rage and tranquility within me
Trying to live peacefully side by side
Having plenty to say but uncapable of finding the right words
So I drown myself in confusing thoughts
Unable to put them down and store away forever