Wednesday, October 3, 2012



The heart like a moth
Around this fire more atrocious
And nothing that we can bring in
As much as life condemns us,
Luck had sought milder
Life in another direction so fierce
Wait so only the old tormentor,
Love that actually poisons me.
Sleepy emotions in an empty space
The fight that really ever undo
Demonstrates the loneliness of being a poet,
The chaos generated in the soul in such a plot
Proclaims and even how to impart
Living this favorite word.


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