My torments
The blood if downing the each cut
And having the solution much more distant
Creep currents; delirious
Path leading me for the death,
From pouring the whole is really nothing
And when I saw another path fortunate
Without having every joy that meets
From my desires, crude flight.
Fray-if existing routes illusions
And dead in life remains solely
The entertaining expectancy that calms
Diverse than in pain venal exposes me
And this certainty of never having
Cultivation inside me, my storms.
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