Dolor Gulfanrists
no, nothing,
to this tasteless gray day
that the calendar dissimulated with bright colors
but it was old news,
something about the evils that wouldn't bloom
or other fallacies lies traps.
we saw the face of fate
and he cries a sour pain,
jaws carved with blades,
sad and shy red eyes
of who is about to happen,
he,
the destiny.
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