OLD HEART
Fear not let escape
Nor would already at the end
The rest of what was fantasy
And now draws on vague slag,
The fight shaping up in memory
And the term determines the order of the day
While each verse, a utopia,
Luck asleep, melancholy.
Pieces among many streets
And when this torment you now shows
Tracing the redemption in full farce
Love you both out after all,
Now translates as illusions
The old heart is loosened so that ...
MARCOS LOURES
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