Thousands of poems that I produced from the stem cell of my conscience and loneliness

You are a cluster of dreams, an awareness hidden in the address of hope and darkness that I wish to forget.

I couldn't determine the size of my face because I was head over to infinity once.

You were the best way to silence the poems that were sobbing inside me, my hope and my effort to forget yesterday that I sent away.

Your feelings had no scale.

The effort expended by the grinning hyena was more than I was on my back.

In a way, I must have shed my feelings before the expiration of my life. It is obvious that sometimes I was chased with a poison spring, sometimes I was forgotten in the ground, and sometimes I was amazed at the race of the hour and minute hands and I participated in it.

My knees were not bleeding, now see that my strings were bleeding, most of all, I had to put all the tips in my lower memory one by one on the rope and I should wait for each one to dry.

I set out once.

On the other hand, I went to myself.

Some shadows are wrapped in prayers in order to dry the pus that flows from them.

My God I hugged in the first place, my conscience and loneliness, thousands of sentences that I produced from the stem cells of loneliness were obviously bitter that the painful pills and pains shared a sharp angle as it shared a sharp angle.

While I was in the defense, I was always in the mouth of the ball.

My feelings bounce like a ball from one heart to another.

My memories that have escaped the ball and also: However, I should have taken my power from my current existence and from God.

A chaos is settled in me.

Or I was gathering and gathering what is there and gathering what's going on with the ground and there is no way to live and what is likely to live.

At the end of the day.

After all, when I came to inspect at night, I was sweeping the tiredness of the day in front of my door and the outer voice I fought after a point after a point I came from the end of the night I was dripping from the end of my pen.

If there are chapters of the life I always missed the end of the rope, now the most of the hearts of the overflow of the heart of the heart, sometimes the heart of the heart of the metal fatigue.

I clicked on my memories if a rideful suitcase.

The loaded with sadness of the shadows sprinkled like a tattoo on the skin of the night…

While the time and derivative of the place is the most important of the universe, which I circumambulated with my dimensionless soul, while the place I did not belong to the most, while the dilemmas hidden in the climate of heart, while I was the god of love and reconciliation.

I could have been a spelling error

That order mode given to me for a lifetime.

Was it possible to be happy without interruption and smiles smiles?

In any case, when I did not deny that I succeeded.

Crying is the intersection point of the two emotions.

If it was an unknown, I took refuge in the only entity that accompanying us and I ignored what is known and I have never heard.

Everything is in harmony with the visual nature that the spirituality of spirituality, while the sense of faith and the creator of the ruling and the creator of us, thanks to the creator of the fate and my Lord, and of course the dreams of the realities of the realities of love and recurrence of all the beauties of faith and recurrence all the beauties of faith And I made hope that I made the crown…