My way
Carrying my way gradually as it could believe
in the best and more beautiful moments
to envision what it stubbornly on love and to be,
after all means nothing more than an unsustainable
unthinkable delirium of dreamer.
Life is therefore deceptive and fooling
at every moment does not permit the new reality,
but it has well known and lost
by the fears and anxieties, and stupid inconsequential.
Addition my losses, I escape no more than the same face
already cut and marked in cold blood,
his eyes never missing in the horizon
that could bring to me anything other than feeling
is unthinkable to who intended something
more than of the eternal recycle of sorrows and bankruptcies.
Marcos Loures
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