Pain
A year ago, when waking up, it abra to the eyes it wanted to return to close them! , Whichever it hurt to me to wake up! in the middle of as much pain Whichever pain rested! like sweepings bubbles on the quiet surface of the pure water of the oases and mirages. Whatever noxas, what flocks of crows, circulated in my blood hungry of Liver. Whichever weeping arose in my eyes, like salty tears on the enchanted beauty of jasmins and carnations. A year ago sedientas walked in sandals on sands, of the hours and the days. A year ago it closed my eyes, dreaming that when waking up the wind of the moon kissed my face. Of my dreams was only detritus, of my profits they were only wastes that hermanaban with rage and desolation, at heart of my precipice. A year ago I solo with my pain was a traveling corpse that only hoped to be buried a year ago the value and the anger wanted to drink cyanide, Feared to have left and to dim the always clean, pure and chaste eyes of my children, the value in the blood it agonized a year ago, silence circulated in the arteries and struck with its pulses the melancholic weave of my soul. A year ago the rage questions full, touched with desolation the doors of the Sky and when these were only abran there was Silencio a year ago It only waited for a Miracle!.