¿Y no es acaso su existir una quimera? Todo lo que no tiene es sencillo de alcanzar, su solución se basa en tapiar los ojos y tolerar que todo se desmorone eternamente entre lo real y lo que no, la ficción de un deseo...
Saturday, August 1
Dead.
All along my road it was trouble and so I was. Your tears became my bed; my bed now was your bar in which the moments, you chose, the lies, our rush, turned into my badly bad.
it was trouble
No comments:
Post a Comment