WHAT DO I LOVE THIS?
Way by the darkness more obscure
In search of illumination that withheld.
Living in the plots of insanity
Gradually realizing such wear.
Do not lay about fears, which I still have,
There are so many that do not fit into a poem.
But every day when I come
Slowly changing an old theme...
The shyness that prevents me complain
To the moon so bright that desire,
Sometimes so much fire that inflames me
I hope and I cannot, nor kiss...
It's easy to understand why complain,
I love that this is not calling you?
MARCOS LOURES
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