Tears Of A Looser

Tears of a looser Always I wrote with the heart my beloved. We call a person dear because it is a treatment of excellency, a fondness well, well excessively to the times, the love has thorns felt for the only member ours that has proper will I write with emotion seeing the world with my eyes of poet, artist whose carma will be to tomorrow walk alone the wait of a new. Dying becoming vacant for the tracks of this time, with the illusion of living an utopia that also was dreamed by the great writers. The love is perpetual! Who truily dies is the people, partially or literally, says this, with the comment of a creator, who not yet looks at the finished workmanship, but imagines it ready in its perfection. I speak of the social death, everything seems normal to the eyes of the mpios, the days pass, the months are of small account, speaking scientifically, the time is relative to lives who it, and the pain of a loss also. My accompanying face of joy times and necessities I have homesicknesses of you, but I am not gentleman of destination much less owner of its heart. Accepted the letters of the game and I ahead knock down my king of the check. Gladiador looser! I wait for the honrosa death and it tomorrow close my eyes in the hope of a new. Knowing that the end is something that hurls in them for a new start, always painful fall, I rise myself as the sun in this new dawn. That all the ones that land on water one day have kept pra itself the true souvenir of something, exactly that, the verb to love has been only conjugated for I. They always remember: the love is perpetual, lasts the time that to last Mrio Sergio Dos Santos