Profesorimelody of virtuosity, Oana-Dinuța Cloșcă, elev la Centrul Judeţean de Excelenţă

no facial expressions, quite apathetic,

You put smiles on my lips,

carved with a cigarette.

You wrap me in a curtain,

reciting the pragmatic synopsis,

praying I'm not some runaway.

You’re like salt, a futile evil,

keeping my wounds intact,

keeping me away from treacle.

but all your lies were cloying.

now I know You’ve been enjoying

sending me higher than air-height

just for me to live a greater fall

and for You to pick me off the ground.

our story may be anecdotal.

virtuosity is far from being moral.

but we’re still dancing on its melody,

hence, I might as well be angry.

You are a fallen art.

oh, what a struggle it is to be remarked…

You would have done anything to catch a spark

coming from my helpless eye.

but, now that it’s been caught,

I’m an irrelevant cause of concern.

let me stay somewhere in your heart,

I cannot go back to that world.

I promise not to say one word…

…and I've been silent, ever since then,

and I'll always choose the silence.

maybe I still idolise you,

maybe I still suffer from alterity.

the latter would explain my ardour

to conform to our dreams.