Wednesday, October 3, 2012



Luck ascend the path where I can
Bringing in my old edged dagger,
Though really get used
In so much that is entangled in the pit and pit.
The sordid expression finally seizes
And I see this valley beyond the ridge
Wandering without even flashlight or stove,
While each mistake, the mud endorse.
Old attempt: to be happy,
How much and could no longer wanted
Living without sense or even as
The fight still traces some luck,
And although not behave within the soul,
My world is empty; disenchantment...


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