Dearest Mr Tentenna
it is not easy to take the risk of a choice
and even use your own words,
camouflage yourself and live by reflected light
at the bottom of murky waters
among miserable deceptions and lies,
inferiority complexes,
cumbersome delusions of grandeur.
Mr Tentenna is not a reason for shame
not knowing how to hit any target,
having missed yet another shot irremediably.
And it matters very little if your wife
does nothing but cry
obsessed by the smell
of your numerous betrayals,
she swallows unknown pains
and elevated doses of sedatives.
It is now customary, Mr Tentenna,
to lose heart, not be up to
your own ambitions
and push yourself to stand out from the pack.
Ignorance is a non-negligible complex,
a chasm, it can be hidden in silence
avoiding the danger of a mild direct confrontation.
Mr Tentenna is not a reason to be ashamed
not being able to boast any talent,
having chased yet another train in vain.
And it doesn't matter if your wife
does nothing but cry
haunted by the smell
of your numerous betrayals
and in the end she's not entirely wrong
and it is no coincidence at all if
lovers, friends and dreams disappear,
the dog on the balcony has been waiting for months
for the privilege of a walk
yet in the evening he faithfully rejoices
When you return.
And it doesn't matter if your wife
does nothing but cry
haunted by the smell
of your numerous betrayals
and in the end she's not entirely wrong
and it is no coincidence at all if
lovers, friends and dreams disappear,
the dog on the balcony has been waiting for months
the privilege of a caress
and in the meantime your daughter asks
why life is so miserable.

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