so cold when it's spring,
but nobody eyes her,
just like a nightmare.
And she hasn't felt at home
since they broke and left her alone,
in her own prison,
her own global extinction.
And if they ask about her bests,
she prays to save her flesh...
"Although you sound good,
I won't believe you.
Well, go and call me suspicious,
and I know I'm not because
I'm naive and pure...
paranoid and cute."
Not awful, there's something strange in what she says.
Spiteful are those who thought she was gray.
Not faithful, someone who believes in the same way
and in the hour, just leaves her and gets away.
Fran Zama
Verídica, conozco alguna(s) trustless
Verídica, conozco alguna(s) trustless



