Agora deixo um texto meu, mexido e remexido, e vamos ver se os leitores (caso haja) me conseguem definir uma mente livre, assunto do poema:
That close
I stare this silver horizon
I share with the view a feeling of scare and contempt
Then I look on the inside to let
My senses survey something left untold
To resort to my inner being
And let it be
I share with the view a feeling of scare and contempt
Then I look on the inside to let
My senses survey something left untold
To resort to my inner being
And let it be
And then an annoying feeling passes me by
That I threw some things away
To the chanciness of destiny
And how come I waste youth
With a mind
That is not free
That I threw some things away
To the chanciness of destiny
And how come I waste youth
With a mind
That is not free
That close
Somehow always that close to being
The one I think I really am
Am I living... truly
When am I getting there
I stare this silver horizon
I share with the view a feeling of scare and contempt
Then I look on the inside to...
Survey something...
Whispering
Tangent to my soul
Somehow always that close to being
The one I think I really am
Am I living... truly
When am I getting there
I stare this silver horizon
I share with the view a feeling of scare and contempt
Then I look on the inside to...
Survey something...
Whispering
Tangent to my soul
Rather open myself
To the cyan of the world
Rather set my feet
Sow my seeds
To this very ground
To the cyan of the world
Rather set my feet
Sow my seeds
To this very ground
Wish I could always have my spirit gliding
On a wind current of freedom
To reconnect to the nature
Calling my name right now
On a wind current of freedom
To reconnect to the nature
Calling my name right now
Estou aberto a críticas!
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