In the bad year,
that no one will ever speak of ever again,
the walls were blue & words meant nothing.
People would talk & it’d come out like puffs
of dank and dirty smoke.
And no one could look anyone in the eye.
The media were filled – as always –
with beautiful lies that no one,
I repeat, no one believed.
Dogs did not bark.
Birds refused to sing.
It was as if the world were a cartoon
and the artist, maybe because of lack of time
or, why not, just pure laziness,
had forgotten to add color
and those magic cloud-like balloons.
Looking back, I don’t know
how we lived through it.
I guess, we didn’t know
any better.
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