2017.09.14.
What has life become
What has life become
what
what a rotten apple
what a surplus
what a waste
It was a rose
it was
a golden cloud
and meant to flourish
lightly
through the air.
It was a rose
it was
a happy flame
it was anything
that doesn't weigh
that doesn't hurt
that is pleased with existance
that is easy
easy.
It couldn't consist of corridors
of sordid dawns
of disgust
of tasks without light
of routines
of time limits.
It couldn't be,
it couldn't.
Not that
which it was
which it is
the dirty air of the street
the winter
the many faults the
miseries
the fatigue
in a deserted world
2017.09.14.
Every morning I'm searching for you
Every morning I'm searching for you, all day long I'm searching for you
And every sunset I always ask about you
And I spend all my nights with distress and pain
But my heart never said a complaint
But my heart never said a complaint
because the pain I have for you is sweet, my sunshine
My love, the pain of separation is unbearable
Like the candle, slowly, my spirit will be consumed by the flame
Another woman will never be touched by my spirit in my whole life
And I will never try to find consolation and breath in another love!
2017.09.14.
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