Pen - pen: Disarm my Pain

WARM BREAD

It tastes like heaven,
It is the bread of salt,
Mornings without you,
Is cold,
I still wait for the next honk of the bicycle,
And the scream of my mom,
Holding a fifty peso bill,
To buy some,
Warm Bread.

•••

I will take you to the different kind of pleasure,
Where there is no sex, vices and pressure,
All you need is the satisfaction,
Tasting the warm, soft, and Fragrant bread,
And indulge with the cup of hot coffee,
While watching the raindrops fall on the roof,

It was 2:00 a.m, and there is no car or even man passess on the pavements,
There is no one here,
Your headphone's volume is high,
Playing some Old Music,
Takes you back in time,
Where there is no suffering,
Just a sip of wine,
Laughs out of the line,
The colors were dazzling, look how they shine,
As you walk silently,
Passing the crosswalks and signs.

This is a compilation of hatred and nostalgia,
happiness and nausea,
Where no one suffered from any kind of pain,
But a pure expression of the word "Gain",

Here is the piece of bread,
Take a generous bite,
Don't leave traces,
Or they will find your aces,
And on those warm spaces,
There is a spread that brings up your senses,

Take a bite,
On the warm bread,
Before it gets cold,
Makes it tasteless, and dead,

Don't take this piece seriously,
Because I am not that serious to you,
For the warmest welcome ends with the coldest goodbye,
And under those smile hides a dark plum,
It was sweet but dark,
It was sour but sweet,
Mouth-watering sensation,
Gathering some serious tention,
This will caught your attention,
Lefts you guilty in detention,

This is just a warm bread,
Add some butter,
It will get truly better,
Makes your morning better,
Better is for good,
And good for the best,
Where there is good and better,
You better be good.