passed in November, as the shortest day of August. You are still voiceless and the leaves on the ground still remind me that fall.
We slept in the branches of trees, an endless night, I looked and I have not stopped doing since then ... Alma
fighter, you never give up. Lonely mind and colored paper look, I have fear of wrinkle, looking glass, I'm afraid that burst into a thousand pieces ...
We stayed away, I stayed in a corner until I could hold me ...
have been my peace and my war, my balance, my rope broken. And now, who I'm supposed to?, Who is supposed to be?, Who are supposed to be?
The world is full of vultures, I try to escape each of them. Still I'm lost, lost, but by your side ...
0 comments:
Post a Comment