It was probably nothing but it felt like the world. Morrissey, Autobiography

He couldn’t do it, 

this isn’t a poem,

even if it rhymes 

even if it won’t.

He would look at himself in the mirror 

met knew people every day, and smile.

Not because he had to, but because he did,

he just did, and it was probably nothing.

He met different people, 

smelled distinct smells,

visited exotic places

and heard fresh voices.

He lost his confidence somewhere,

somewhere he couldn’t recognize,

because he wouldn’t leave his house,

the way he was supposed to, with his glasses on,

because he lost confidence, someplace incompatible.

He managed to fly while being awake, no glasses on

 everything seem unfamiliar to his almost-blind eyes

there where no signs, no people to take anything away

and it was probably nothing but it felt like the world.

By Ana Fuente

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