Find me a strength to make a fight.
A fight that does not last,
that does make things
nor a wrong word to make my day,
be more colorful than a month back.
Inasmuch to have nothing,
yet only a longing embrace from a deeper sense of what;
I will make,
but of all the pink cake
I shall not want.
Only to hear the spiders laugh,
the smirks of cockroaches takes the half
of humankind’s feet.