Kunthe Skrzat

Tuesday, February 28, 2012

stone

when the sun went to greet her cast the solar

residual moisture is forced to survive

and clutch his fingers firmly on the leaves

ultimately in vain; slips and falls

and it seems like I'm just trying to translate it all

even if only by my language

and we are equally

and we are equally
feel the warmth of the morning looking at solar
the fragrant flowers bloom as long

song of freedom

collected a million tears

- for what?

- Why not just dead?

all plunged in the depths of the storm

feeling hopeless; bored and always stuck

teach me prayer

I always recite in distress
I always recite the anxiety
I always recite the error
I always recite in their grief
I always recite the powerlessness

I own the night’s

kiss the moon rocks extend

my hair is loose go dancing

sanction

up one morning

"Bastards!"

"BASTARDS!" I swear as hard as my strength.

This morning, I had awakened from my sleep soundly. This dream was the worst in the history of my life. Loud and very noisy as hundreds of lightning outside my house. Though its history has never been a morning I woke up like this. And to make matters worse, I woke up not because of my own. This is really a very hated.

After all I have to thank the journalists across the country

.I deny not, honestly in my heart, that the reporter was just a bunch of hypocrites and cowards. To me they were the same as terrorists. It's just not as extreme as well as how a real terrorist. The only broadcast journalist inequality and all the evil in the world. That way they also create terror in people. So I'm not one to assess if they are part of the terrorists.