In the roof of the word
several loves are playing...

They say your heart is a rose flower,
afraid of the thorns...

It is late,
too late for me to close my eyes and sleep...

I wish to write of romance,
but I find no chance...

Heart broken and wrecked,
esteem torn and reduced to sadness...

Since my birth, I have known not life,
and with every single inhalation...

If I could sing,
It would be songs for your heart...

A beautiful morning with the sun up high above the...
clouds seems very high...

It is okay to cry..
Eventually all tears dry...

In a world where stories are told
words oozing from mouths and shaky hands spraying...

From afar I saw her,
face lit like sun...

Scrabbled words,
from a shattered heart...