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Tuesday, 21 January 2014

Lost people

Most of the people
Are afraid of themselves
They hide in a hug of society
Wanting to avoid dialog
Inside their souls

They accomplish everything
The society has dreamed of
Soon they realize
Houses, cars and money
Are not someone
With whom to talk

When they become aware
That happiness is another way
Years are lost
They feel like a ghost
In a haunted place

They want to turn around
Follow the right path
But listen how
They complain instead

Under the artificial color
I have many grays
Catching dreams
Is for youngsters
I will just be waiting
For death

What I want to say
To that pathetic excuser
You are making me mad
Even if you were
One hundred years old
To meet the end
You could wait
Until one hundred and ten

To throw ten years
In the garbage bin
Certainly it is a sin

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