“I’m sorry, but I don’t want to pretend

to be you.”

I always pretend,

at what I do

Otherwise, the situation

is grim

like the reaper

or the black dog barking

from storm clouds.

I like to watch the sky

on a beautiful blue day

when cotton balls play

in the atmosphere

and the sun doesn’t have anywhere to be

but up

and I am feeling like the sun

while I make the wind

on my bicycle

and lay in green fields

where I hope to die

one day.

I like to pretend, I am the clouds

dissolving

and then I reappear

in mid-air.

I am a dreamer

and my boss wonders why

I don’t want to be her

There is no majesty

in 1000 tasks to do

that take me, no closer

to the clouds.

I ride my bicycle, because it feels good

I work for the pain

and the rest, afterwards

Pretending, always sets me free

because, I can be

anything

no matter what I might be

I am a cloud

in the sky

taking the shape of monsters

It’s a beautiful place

to die

the office,

is worse than death.