IMAGE
I do not want nor could guess
As much as life is presumed
And it would feel your perfume
In a dream in a more subtle take.
The tears that had been able to unravel
The struggle in proving such custom
In each drawing knife edge
And of course the price to pay.
Damaging to the path without knowing
How much could the whim
Dress hypocrisy and not come,
And as much as I can and I refrain
On the back I can see no sense
Only reflected this image.
MARCOS LOURES
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