Human unconscious floating body is your sense who fills me, salvndome on your guard in the shadows of your being. I've hurt the chest with a turning gray. With your sword NIO innocent. With your eyes fixed desolate. Dropped many pieces, bits of dreams and blessed yellow red hair is me an you exist. Your innocence baffles me. With so much chaos around you're still holding me, through green, yellow and blue disappeared, including weapons and shrapnel unexpected contagious. It was your war, civil war you've lost the fight. With an elephant cries you sink into chaos, nothing holds you. Perdiy you love those white tears mark SERN ms upcoming horror. But still, an aquestoy me. Cuidndote the spirit in the whirlwind ms top of your beautiful box. You have no butterflies, no cows, and giraffes, are a million of dreams, of dreams between estdesdichada painful humanity. Are the violence that sunk in wickedness. You're the victim as upcoming death, which plays a soldier between branches of reality. You are that child who never want to see. This distressing situation that burns the skin. This sad disease that overwhelms us existence. But still, I curndote aquestoy an injury that you painted red shoes. An aquestoy me in that green shell detenindote bullets. I'm for despojarte of that sword. Your innocent be slvanos bliss. You said so many things with your image of a thousand colors, you should despojarte of these weapons and make the blood in heaven. Your innocent be slvanos hablndonos your invisible silence with your eyes clear of this cruel disease that took us to death. Slvanos life slvanos peace, an, an aquestoy I cuidndote suplantndote yellow chest guard. Laura Bustamante