What good can I do
for a world
fond on making new roads
when all i´m good at
is finding cracks
on the asphalt
for people
who don´t want to see them
for road signs which tell us
to overlook them
for elementary school teachers
which forbid the children
to rest their ears against their edges
and listen to their story
for policemen who order us
not to pay attention to them
for they are the chalk outlines
of unsolved murders
that everyone is willing to forget
All I want to do
is lay besides their
cracked
but still shaking bodies
whispering trembling words
about not forgetting
promise them i´ll visit
every once in a while
to talk about their glory days
while the ants march besides us
their quiet steps
too humble
too shake the ground enough
for anyone to notice them
but I do
and maybe that´s why they keep walking
or maybe they just don´t care
