They search at the bottom of the drawers derailed
By vandals.
In the dusty dormitories of their lives
In the total clutter.
On the catchy tune of all these preachers outside
they are still searching
their heart, their little one
under the debris of horror,
their heart
which trembles, which breaks ©shrink
which freezes from the inside.
They dream at the bottom of the graffitied alleys
Lifting the veil.
In the madness of the pimps and blackberry
The total epidemic.
In the bulldozer air of all these bloggers outside
they still dream...
With one heart, with one very small
of its weak warmth,
a heart
that beats, that rebuilds,
that shines from within.

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