Mr. Justice
I must say that I was always a stranger
In this city of lights which looked wonderful
With sadness
For bluff off the hand of a naughty child
O
plan out very resistant to any failure
O
factory
was my darkness that surrounded the outside lights
of whom hated
A
I got tired of losing my fingerprints without leaving traces on the sidewalks
And perhaps
The masks were guilty
faceless smiles
forceps delicate
filthy hands if I do not understand I'm not trying to justify
I was a cob grit in
That did grow in the sun
But you know
Today everything is so demanding and so hollow
while
I rushed and I was sad
Everything was tragically outside
The hum of insects
spits words
The feed was a pitiful
obligation to keep
How can you . see
A man can not be a poet ...
So assassinate me.
