An english poesy

[cincala]

How can we imagine
That cruelty can exist
In this world who will come and
I have a feeling that it is every man for himself

the truth
I want to talk
but I have no one to listen to me
was I alone am delivered
I then pour the ink
I then cast tear
Then I lower arm

But in spite of everything I still exist

Too strong or too weak, I do not know
I like you are not forgotten
Basically if I am writing is that I hurt
basically if my heart is bleeding love

Still, I'm still too attached
I have often regretted
But I ended up erasing the wounds of the past
although in my eyes you can read some scar
Do not forget that time passes like the wind that slips

not, history're not finished it only start
and I'd burn in silence nonexistent words
for that feeling to finally be inexister

But I lose patience, which I have not
I taste more of chance, but of confusion
I paid a high price for my esperance
I see now spend hours
I wonder ... why did you you broke my heart

I dare not cross it, after all I can do
After all, even if I lose, return the reperes
after all, I may be scared but at least I have done​