SINS

SINS

My confessions, errors, sins
He never allowed me to salvation
While life traces the breeze
Turning to my various spans and illusions,
Do not let even more mere scraps,
Not try new days, they will come
Only these failures without summer
Winters every day in these meadows.
Churches and polluting demons
How much could be endless
Scenario decomposed without tenderness.
Way without even having a moment
Where could without torment,
Left much bitterness for me ...

MARCOS LOURES