lunes, 17 de enero de 2011


Sometimes dreams
dress decorated villains
where cries cohabit disinherited.
Unfinished pieces of a puzzle
you always represents.

Sometimes invented worlds
marketed with our realities,
fundiendoses to perfection
with thousands of your moments ...
I follow the trail.

Sometimes the wind cries your name
the gray soaking my reality
what my spirit wants
is just what I can not possess,
indigent poor soul.

Sometimes the edge of my way
shows stakes, which stuck in my land,
point the way, you have not caught.
ironically, those you drag me
I can not walk.

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