A loose poemilla baking that I have pending ...
The locomotive blind
the train of human destiny.
insatiable seekers of the great things
where small highlight.
Men who watch the evening
the youth in their windows chained
poor, simple, eloquent
lives and gloom on the way home.
The shadows that monitor the day we salute
conferences in this sea of \u200b\u200bheart
in the trousseau of dreams is he who sows wealth
and there hand cuts that work.
Run time mysterious
adds to the disappointment laughter
knowledge that after all,
galloping passes, passes hitting the tables
and dusty faces as we shake the craving
to throw us overboard.
Play dirty time
gives no rest or respite
goes inert, silent,
and leave your mark on our face.
There fight for the cause of youth,
poisoned by the mirror,
far there are flashes of what we were
and still hear our words,
worn and dissonant,
incredible as cold in summer,
accurate and fast as the harm caused by indifference,
like tears pain in the chest,
as the kiss of death among men.
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