Acusam-me de roubar sonhos,
Das piores coisas que o acaso traz,....
De não conhecer sentimentos,
De fazer números com letras,
E frases ao acaso com os pontapés no ar que somo com devaneios,...
Acusem sem me conhecer,
Mostra a precisão dos vossos dias,
E dá vantagem inútil aos meus,...
Continuem com os falsos pressupostos,
Que eu organizo-me em fogo para me auto consumir,...
Assim tem de ser,
Há muito que estou convencido
Foto de: Delfi Carmona
Me gusto tu poema. Te mando un beso.
ResponderEliminarUn beso tanbien
EliminarSometimes, when we don't conform, suddenly we can do no right. But those left turns might bring us around to the right..sooner or later. I really liked the way you put this one together. It reminds me of an escalating confrontation I was put in at the front desk over the weekend at the library with an older man who by his standards was being nice talking to someone woman who was studying at the library. However, she started recording him. She wanted to be left alone. Thus, he reminded us, "Men just can't do anything anymore. What is wrong with our society?" He told me he wanted to go back and smack her in the face.
ResponderEliminarUau, really strong story
EliminarThanks for the coment
Love this poem so much. Thanks for sharing. Have a great day!
ResponderEliminarRampdiary
Welcome to the blog.
EliminarThanks so much