Wintry evenings
Evening’s wintry days in the midst
of warm humidity sensations and everyday
there's nothing but the same as evil
fake mounted by life, obscuring the sun
and was left of in this perspective more distant and misty.
The swirls and the treacherous waters,
sorrows of a life without value,
only representing the chaos and the end of the dreams
that never should have occurred.
Killing in the birthplace of replant a hope
withered among the stumbling steps of an imbecile
whose poetry had been swallowed for the gutter of day by day.
But the wind insists knocking on the window
like it was a presence of which will never really
will come, and when opened the heart,
simply overwhelming, and destroying the remained
thrown in some corner, rotten and invalid.
Marcos Loures
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