Glass fish

An adolescent angst that didn't want to disappear, streets that tasted like death, acid and violent relationships. The days were pale. I don't have no chance to float in the great tide of the vast sea.
 
My tears crowded behind my eyes as I didn't see coherence in my poor language, in the cruelty of each human being and helplessness for the eagles of smoke that I tried to describe.
 
It was like wanting to describe them while I was next to a window, with the sound of the cars that left an unheard of, stressful and hopeless silence.
 
Today I continue with that anguish but without the smoke eagles, which flew and were replaced by small glass fish that did the impossible: fly.