the mother was closing the book of duty   going away proud without seeing   in those blue eyes the soul of her child   full of disappointment secretly kept in silence      all day he was sweating with obedience   very smart but some expressions on his face   would prove hypocritical thoughts   in the shadows of his room      7-year-old he was planning stories on life   from the great desert where freedom gleams   to the loving meadow with healthy perfumes   as he was only enjoying the darkest things      in his naked and moist room with closed windows   he was reading his novel full of heavy skies   and drowned forests flowers of flesh   vertigo crumbles with pity