.

.

.

Nothing in particular

.

.

Misery i predict,

for u stay here and cry,

losing i admit,

for i no longer make sence at all.

.

staying equals death,

yet you come back and recall,

do u like the suffering, i ask,

probably so, my soul replys.

.

i no longer wanna drop tears,

but i don't wanna forget the fears.

.

how can u live with that deamon,

that doesn't let u see or hope freedom.

.

he shows you only bad things,

things yet to happen and being.

.

you no longer wanna close ur eyes,

like an endless strugle you fight,

but sooner or later you'll fail,

and go back to the horrible scenes on ur sight.

.

there's no hope,

there's no dream,

there's just strugle,

to try to be a better being.

.

By ME

.

.

si estas leyendo esto, gracias por leer mis poemas....

if ur reading this, thx for reading my poems....