An old sentiment.

An old sentiment.

An old feeling holds me:
how much I could and I have never been.
The waters running softly,
time is lost behind the turns.
The most plausible dream and not palpable,
the verse that I tried and I did not know,
the vessel has broken and beyond repair.
But I continue poorly day by day,
dragging the old chains tied to my feet.
Marks of a continuous struggle for freedom
and hope away asleep.
I'm dull and no one notices my presence,
even my shadow no longer there.
The broken mirror on the floor,
stepped on the futility of this life.

Marcos Loures