I almost understand, but
but I do not comprehend
nor accept...
That your frozen blood,
fused in silent time,
with pupils painted
with ink of nonsense,
touched with the illusory dust
of an evident negativity,
can rave and enjoy
while watching the noiseless suicide
of my soul that survives
in the midst of a supernatural love
for your fabled figure...
Does nothing bring you
light memories lived,
atavistic happiness, dormant...!
Why do...
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