martes, agosto 05, 2008

Tercera fase o fase enfurecida (poesía)

I put on your sweater Daddy
and my tough flows into your room.
Your heavy smell invades my dinner.
I don't eat anymore.
You live trough glass.
Don't get to feel anything real.
Music is going down the street
and you can't catch your bus.
I'm leaving the leaving room
to pass trough seasons
in search of your love in past noons.
But I don't want to find it now.
You push too much.
Have never listen.
Don't appreciate.
Is too late now.
Sometimes can't even been added.
You went to school, but no one were there.

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