metal step that destroyed the kitchen is rusting in the front door where some residents leave notes, for example, cleans the stairs once.
I I have wall inside a fortress of beheaded soldiers who loved the war because it was the only way to kill themselves without having to find other poisons, I have someone ask me how I am and I have a room which is just not verbalized , so the cold and the blizzard of ash covering my face.
Before the distance was a strategy, now is the river that leads to death, not choice, is doom.
Sometimes I feel so leave me haggard and settle on what I want.
Not to mention the vultures with a crown and murderers politically correct, all that is understood, simply look out the window.
I speak of my death, of the roads leading to a site that I do not mind me dying on me, on me and against me. And with that I have enough time to my life.
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