Only a few can understand the melancholy of the Moon That shines different and lonely among countless stars But the flowers are always sad in the sunrise, sprinkled with tears After listening all the painful secrets.
On this huge chaos that is life I’m beyond lost I can’t walk, or breath, or talk And if smiles are the habitual lies That we tell in silence Then, poetry is the truth we write So I’ll fill these lines Until Autumn comes and blow them to the wind Or until a sleep without dreams Until I be found by the hands of the Time And finally my words dry Or the paint of my pen.
They say husbands are supposed to be strong I think many have it wrong. Husbands have feelings and emotions too But many wives don’t have a clue. Give him a chance to express himself You just might understand how he
Just like mantises, hurrying to finish his last embrace, so to be taken by the husks of his beloved; Like a butterfly, flying to the sun, but hunted by a pale lamb hanging on the dust of the road; Like