quarta-feira, 26 de janeiro de 2011

Dying

As I was made of thoughts,
Grown by ideas,
I was born in your mind.

Now my senses are fading,
My past was amazing,
But all seems to fade away.

I just feel the cold,
And though I don't regret living,
Can't find strenght for breathing
When I see that even you,
Who promised to stay,
Refuse to say my name.



Jejels, 26/01/2011.

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