No more disguises get me to pretend I have no more ideas, to not cry I have no more smiles, for drawing much happiness .... that no longer have ... I do not get more poems to recite nor melodies to improvise I have no fantasies to dream a little more, just a little more. I have no more pockets, without emptying. I have no more places to escape. And now Im much more alone in my pain previous and inside me, just memories. I have no more verses, to invent. I do not care if it does not rhyme, or if it hurts to sing. Only a little more strength to imagine in this place, getting back again together.
Posted on: Sun, 30 Mar 2014 22:07:24 +0000
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