terça-feira, 18 de dezembro de 2012


Sou incompatível com normalidade. Já a loucura, tenho vontade de por no colo e conversar.

Um comentário:

Anônimo disse...

so the dove of hope began it's downward slope, and I believed for a moment that my chances were approaching to be grabbed.
But as it came down near, so did a weary tear... I thought it was a bird, but it was just a plastic bag. And every day, when I look at the grey sky above my head, I see the same white plastic bag, and no stars to pray on, or whish on, or something like that.