Between two palms there're flowers that live in colors by the musky hours of tissue.
It rains pleasure and leisure, the sparks devour and your failures devalue.
Smells of delicacy, what a conspiracy, taste it yourself and feel the wax that you see as 'dirty'?
Taste pink petals with courtesy, we know that your fungus doesn't live in this pH fantasy!
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...
