To tell me, the poem is also left in the mud left of the life and hundreds of words The sound that was shouting I am ashamed of my beloved wound What to say is not a flock I have no boredom Im not collapsed In regret, my most displaced Even though its not a distance from your home Opposite you? A dedicated captive You have a shooting face in the dust of the dead mirror what am I for you? Mountain tolerance Between us, the bridge of Ahababah, I am tired of the base of the bridge who is close to me, but very far well to see the face of pain and patience tilted to know what I am for you I am more than all the world, but I am more thankful. I broke up Read to know more than you Look to be tired, my only grocer of my cane Disrupted by you in my silence neither patient nor love, I am a tragedy of torment Youre careless, I have all my pain Not, Joon comes to my edge Nothing but the poem of breaking the story of my tomorrow This song is the song, this voice is not my voice see that I only torn, my cane
