No. 2 THIS LETTER IS MORE LIKE A POEM No. 13
Nausea volcano are the cries of the earth
child's cry in protest for not go to school,
The protest of my band for my singing
Las babas babas on the floor, if I slide lock me in your cell.
you really want to lock me up, then do not stop looking at me
glossy brown in your eyes I'll be a lunar white,
Among the wooden matches, I
kindle your fire off today
The circus midget feet tall,
without fortune, without you by my side.
A labyrinth in the sand dunes of the sea,
to you I want to take
Open the eyes of this nightmare, because I do not want your
you provoke
All the dreams I have for you now,
are leaves of autumn wind Eager
brings you scream my beautiful beloved, I call your name
eager.
In your letters I hope for me in my despair
for your legs
peace in your home voice I hear, my voice
your clothes
tears are my treasure of things and issues
imagined and saw the small
But without the right of my target, knew either
not know yet.
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