domingo, 27 de novembro de 2011


Not from my heart do I select my words,
But from my judgemental calculations.
As glass that cuts the flesh and leaves the wound,
Iced is my blood that flows not to my bosom,
But refuse that one that can leave me ruined.
The more I'm free the more I'm lonely still,
Still counting empty drops of nothingness.
I'm maybe crashed, from all that broke me once
And left my naked heroes solely.
But virtuous as I was, never will again.
So go and hunt for love at other sight,
For I that word do not recall as mine.
      I'll keep my feelings all deep down
      So anymore I'll let you drown.

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