One day you will inevitably grow

Because there’s nothing you can do about it…

Maybe you think about quitting

Sometimes you’ll lose your mind.

Not always you will have the last word

Your ideals for some reason will be less than the needs of others.

A day without an apparent warning

Your parents will no longer recognize you.

And you will not know why…

One day you will realize that not always

The reasons that govern this world are the most correct

It’s only a matter of time…

It’s all a matter of time, believe me.


The years are over
Just like the seasons
And are constantly reborn
As an incessant return
An unmanageable traffic
of feelings
We aged in documents
In the soul and in the mirror
We learned the necessary
We forget and forgive
certain things
Because nothing is really built
Productive through sorrow
We plug the holes
That stand in the way
Trying not to let it show
The gaps that remained empty
In previous years.

We are the same.

And yet the world is different
I know this way
Since the age of five
Change signaling
Asphalted the street again
New neighbors arise
Some trees were pruned
Some are married…
Still have stones on the roof
And flood flooding the street
I’m still the same
Old way;
I’m still that novelty
Who died before being discovered

—By Mariana Sampaio F., 24, São Paulo