Talk
Talking of loss that each day brings
more than mistreats and the bitterness
contrast drawn by illusion of the dream
of a lifetime already without value,
and plotting the remains in insanity
and in scorn of those who pass
and see the face disfigured by time
and so much anguish and disappointments.
Talking of deception performed every verse,
every moment and in every day I cross cloudy,
in this interminable canyon they call love.
Talk about how might and had never been,
unless the same discredited image
and thrown into the abyss with no way out and without remedy,
enveloped by ennui and the desire to follow,
but with the feet cemented to the ground.
Talk about how and as from when and already
knowing that the answer is always never...
Marcos Loures
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