obsolete the old fence and tinted memories,
comes for me, it
wrought iron, which your creaked
I pass, my door
fatal dreams of darkness,
my gate where the road narrows,
to get there, I
oppress the senses,
and seizes me, leaving me grief
heartbeat sound
my door occurred,
after this corridor,
sunk into despair,
I curl in your lap,
but she looks at me and provides my refusal,
through life,
speak to me and says,
not give up,
behind this gate is the life
cross it and resolves postpartum words,
in your heart,
the letter of galleries,
that would end in the sense that you give, your existence
regenerated
advances do not stop, do not look back
or well will absorb you, shut up and walk
cejes no silences in your entourage,
which is a single hole through which to escape,
and get away from this door, but the destination
comes for you ..... MARIA
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