The Dementia.

Pexels

The movement of the treetops
fades my memories and my loves,
winter strikes with extreme violence
those places that my dementia hides today.
Many faces today are unknown,
I don't even know their last names anymore,
my mind gradually discolors who I was
leaving behind a fragile and subtle shell.
From my childhood there are only vague ideas,
although they still seem very curious to me,
Well that's the only thing I stick to
so as not to leave my seat in terror.
My freedom is summarized in four walls,
a bookcase and my collection of clarinets,
my music is the only thing that hasn't gone away,
so I feel like I'm not defeated yet.
Few people are in charge of taking care of me,
They feed me and always want to cheer me up,
I can only recognize the love of my life,
The rest is not consolidated in my memory.
My reflection in the mirror does not convince me,
I do not identify with the image that appears,
Every day I feel like I'm taking a step back,
I hope they don't remember me as this failure