Poemas 39


I’ve travelled years
Without shedding a tear
To grow a lake of fire.

And yet all that was grown
Was a river of forgotten drops
To accumulate in sadness.

I’ve grown myself to me,
Severed body of aching pain
To dilute my sought essence.

And all I have are tears
Contrived of uncertainties and one failure
To know no hope remains.

[Fevereiro de 2010]

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