Passionate as a misfired bullet,

You aim at me but never hit,

you have no target, but you lit

the whole place on fire.


Then you see through your own eyes,

though there’s nothing else to see,

this barren earth is your playground,

a game you can´t play without me.


You left the gate open for me

to go out and be a good sport,

but before playing after a sort

I prefer not to play at all.


Impetuous as a missing key

when unlocking all your feelings,

you throw it away and shut down

what was otherwise sound.


I'm a writer born in Argentina, but currently living in Poland. I work as an English and French teacher, translator and copywriter.

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