I'm living in my perfect bubble,
Seeing only the colours of my rainbow.
There are people out in the streets'
looking to the blue sky,
whispering their surprise for the beauty of the twilight.
They are sleeping with dogs to stay warm and safe.
Their shelter is a tree and their happiness a free nice cup of coffee.
They must survive, although someone is chasing them.
They are afraid of the thief with the red bicycle, who covers his face and
they 're afraid to tell the police too: " Cops are mean to me"
People who recognise themselves as diminished, lessened.
Young women with white hair, rapped in rags.
Homeless cowboys dependent on their pair of good socks,
of their military jacket, on their adolescent dreams.
Humans with emotions:
"in her big hug, her breasts were so exciting"
Humans wandering in the world in a faint despair,
coming and going, amongst the gangs and the "respectables",
needing just a garden of hope and love, their freedom and some food.
I'm praying for them in my ignorant, protective bubble.
I easy my conscience in my beautiful bubble...
