viernes, 15 de noviembre de 2013

Some little poem



Sometimes you get mad, madder still.
Sometimes you want to kill
To rip
To maim
To destroy and obliterate

Sometimes you get hurt, even more hurt
Sometimes you want to curl
To cry
To sob
To  get all pain out

Sometimes you need oxygen, on your blood
To breath
To live
To fill your lungs


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