MISSING
Missing my eyes lights, dreams,
And I know where both of misdirection’s
Life has shown in disenchantment
Generating rude and awful day,
The steps between mistakes, boring,
How much do you want mapping and mourning
And when lonely, still dream
Groping days meek and laughing,
But this emptiness is conceived
The fight relentlessly crude in hedge
In wind disdainful of illusion
Although it could have on the look
The dream and try to unravel,
My days are lost at the end ...
MARCOS LOURES
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