septiembre 13, 2010

These dead are dead, you dead. We buried him in a mahogany box, no holes to be able to breath, you pull the hole than I did it. You made me angry, you become a victim, you left so when I went crazy.
You are one more of my old memories, bring along with them because that's where you stay. Do not think you should leave the land dry, wet and cold.
Do not be selfish with the spider, they want to be your friends. Why are you crying? Yo I have not done anything, did you hurt? I do not think I could have made you something, my hands are tied by a transparent thread that cuts the circulation of my blood. Do these lying?
You've killed yourself, you dug your own grave. You said those words, you made me angry. Why? Do you was hard to understand?
These dead, and I can not say more than that. For me died the day you stop being that you were, you faced me and sent me to where who knows where.
Seconds passed, minutes passed, the hours passed, the years gone by ... Who knows when you dig? I needed when I was alone and bored and not know what to do. What is a person's bizarre and hysterical? What is a person who is slowly being alone? What is with you?

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