Se ghemuieşte un suflet.

Dimineata se trezeste atit de greu.E Noaptea care ii inchide ochii,si ii inchide simtirile. Zi , Saptamina , Luna…Anii.Cineva se ascunde,se izoleaza , si incearca sa nu mai respire de frica sa nu fie vazut,de frica sa nu simta ,ceea ce cindva la facut sa doara.Nimeni nu il intelege,cind il asculta se tot mira,cind vad ca suspina il trec cu ochiul,de parca asa si ar trebuie sa fie.Dar el se ineaca,de mii de ori se scutura,se loveste si nu se  mai poate elibera de durere.Simt cum tremura , atit de proaspata ii este rana.A simtit ceva ,care cindva a hotarit sa isi taie venele acelei simtiri.Daca ar fi atit de usor.Ar fi renuntat de mult,dar e atit de dureros sa renunti.

Vreau sa ma asez usor,sa imi deschid macar pe-o secunda usa refugiului,si sa ii inteleg durerea ce-o cinta.Sa il ascult,chiar daca m-as ingrozi de ceea ce aud,chiar daca am sa simt in fata ochilor o pleoapla de ceata,ce imi va opri privirea.Il tot intreb,cita putere mai are ,si oare pina unde si cind,se va zbate pina la ultima picatura de viata.Il ascult,dar nu il inteleg,si cind nu il inteleg e cel mai greoi sentiment,care zgirie pina la profunzime.E scuturat parca de ritmurile vintului,care poarta o veste ce este uitata,usor.Apoi este acoperit cu cea mai aspra frunza a unei luni de octombrie.Si cind rascolesc printre frunzele uscate,cu dorinta sau nu,se prevede un coltisor de respiratie,ingrozit de frig,de fapt este acoperit cu zdrentele unei raceli mortale,lipsit de lumina si de-o caldura atit plina de viata,unde lacrimile i-au umezit trupul,cu ochii inchisi,el inca mai respira ghemuit pentru a se proteja cu nimicul care ii creste speranta de-a trai.Abandonat,mai rau , parasit si uitat.Ghemuit si aplecat pentru realitatea care il bate zi de zi.Caci este lipsit de sprijin,lipsit de nevoie celor din jur.Nimanui trebuit si absenta in respiratiile lor,absenta neobservata.

Published by daianapirgaru

Hello, there! My name is Diana. I am from the Republic of Moldova. Moved to the United States in 2016, and started from the beginning. I was born to inhale words instead of air, to have ink instead of blood, to live thousands of years everything people live in a moment. Since I remember myself, I had this deep connection with the moon, autumn, and woods. I was the sensitive child in the family or the weirdest one. I discovered my passion at an early age, but my wings were broken since I was in high school. Didn't stop flying. Moved to another planet, where I had to learn English from the beginning. I am an overexcited person who adores words and struggles with grammar. I write gritty short stories, novels, and poems, holidays articles, etc. Besides that, I am a student and a MOM.

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