jueves, 31 de enero de 2013

Pristine white snow.

Pristine white snow.

They told me to wait until the winter…
to see if I can become as white as snow,
but in this place so cold and lonely
Will I ever become for sure a pristine soul?

A prison of thoughts will hold my instincts,
manners will change as I will grow,
but if I fail and never become that pristine…
Will they condemn me to wait ‘til winter comes?

The stench of blood and my heart beating,
the words stucking in my tongue,
the air I take on every breathing…
Is every man but me a pristine soul?

Snow falls down on lonely places,
the wind is cold and winter came;
chances are gone and I’m not pristine,
may the snow will pour the human race.

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