Credence has left my wits when God's love pummeled my wholly body.
Psyche of my bosom is being dismantled by his love, I'm ignited by egoistic flames.
Daggers of paucity make my body bleed death, screams make winds break, saint's tears make me melt ...
Time for them to go.
YOU ARE READING
When Only Paper Can Save
PoetrySueño con un paraíso colorido, que el himno nacional sea un latido. The flag will not know bloodshed. Bad people will see what's truly up ahead. Yo quiero que el humano sea humano y que sus acciones no sean en vano. I want people to be treated e...
