Io

if you look inside my Trudy, you find that child insecure and kind, who sang at plays, who was playing in the park. if you look inside that diary, you see the disoriented boy, who was looking for his place, who learned to live, one step at a time. now, if you look inside my headphones, discover a solitary boy, lover of company, who tries to read minds, and who, little by little, forgets who he was.