sábado, 17 de dezembro de 2011

Damned.

Damned.

Damn, you are, for not being beyond
it and inept place where the life
would be lost without even could have,
between my fingers, retained some part of what we were
and there has not been value.
Damn, you be; the smile serene and calming
quieting my demons did not bring me anything in return,
unless the fragility of a stupid dreamer
before the ferocity of life.
Damn, you be, because you have told me
of the love that never existed
and brotherhood impossible and inaccurate figures
thrown to the wind sordid,
unhappy and inglorious a baseless
hope and unprofitable.
Damn, it's me, by believing in the possibility
of seeing the sun where there would be nothing
more than my own rotting carcass.


Marcos Loures

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