The year that never ended

Last year was supposed to be the year of discoveries Or at least that’s what it should have been Oppressions made things very uncertain And in the end, everything ended consumed by fear

Last year I transmuted from my cocoon But I didn’t free myself from my image No matter how much I try to pretend it’s null It’s impossible not to suffer from the mischief

The source of anger is always an injustice And in this case, it’s not even a matter of the mind Because every sentence has been false

Even with anger and this burgundy vision I only wish for my sanity to remain Because last year has not yet ended

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The idea is to write two poems about 2023, one about the bad part, the other about the good part. As expected, the one about the bad part came out first. At least this odyssey turned into a sonnet. Something I hadn’t written in a while, even without metrics. The second one will come out without haste. And not so attached to form.

#paratodosverem the image contains a sad woman sitting, with ankle shackles and a lost look.

Art generated by Bing Creator using the following prompt: “A blonde sad woman with ankle shackles, impressionism, van gogh style”

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