Full of revenge
It’s like that magic box and the trick that
never has worked,
the old bag with broken toys I inherited the
day I born,
as a thousand wiskys on a bad night
and the worst hangover I’ve ever had.
Because bad times make me to realize
out there I still have a life,
and poison could have a bitter taste,
when mind is so full of revenge.
Both of us must give a meaning to this stupid
nonsense
I finally see the fear and the confusion in
your face
and your eyes understand: the pain,
it could be brought by my hand.
But please don’t be scared,
my old enemy, the dearest,
because damage is done
and the lesson’s learned so long.
As I once read in Dumas’ work,
the Count wasn’t so lost,
the most dangerous gift
doesn’t come from my fist
