I hate this day
should never have number 14 in February
without a name that I could make love with the quiet amid a perforated moon
like the night I saw more quiet than myself
no smile, seduction, passion even breathe the air
no voice call my name
then I did only a small theater in the middle of my indecision
I screamed, I whispered, and I paused
I really hate this day of the rest of loved ones
I really tried to fight lonely and dilemmas
I'm winning but I'm still crying
see you out there with whom
to see people closing his eyes
they expect me
when I was dead!
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