You just left the room.

There is nothing there


Not even me exist.

What am I without

Your dear presence
in here?




I am the wounded tiger.

I discovered this

After all the math was done.

All the expertise was exercised.

I am the subject

And Viktor Frankel never told me.

The healer and the wounded are the same.

I am the wound

To be exposed

To the world.

And be forgotten forever.


I am the subject

And just a number.

I want to be just a number this time.

And forget


The wound,

The pain,

The mask

Eternally existed.


I would like to

Forget the opera

And leave the mask


The stage

To be myself

For once

And for all.


Call me

The subject

And the object

To be humanized

And living


From the graveyard

That I was painfully buried

Years ago.


Let me start

My story

With life now

And not my own death.



One thought on “THE WOUNDED TIGER

  1. Even though there are no comments in here, readers, I like to register that many were done through my facebook page. One refers to the my talent as a writer, other to the very moving identification with the wounded tiger, the other simply enjoys the beauty of this sad moment. Most of all it’s important to keep going with the material helping others to soothe their so present pain!

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