14.10.2009

October fourteenth. 

Nothing should be special, 

today will only like October fourteenth as ever. 

Magic. 

There's no better word to say, 

given the fact we are different. 

But who are we human? 

We ran, and fell, 

easy to like, easy to regret? 

For what this long run, 

if we will have each other? 

For what has been regretted, 

if we are going to be like this? 

 October fourteenth. 

Nothing should be special, 

today will only like October fourteenth as ever. 

Magic. 

There's no better word to say, 

considering we really did not differ. 

Who are we human? 

Seeking and loss, 

that survive only to die? 

May we no longer find each other, 

because we are met 

May we stay until we die. 

Writing the hope of every human being is happiness, 

and the fact only a matter of time. 

To Dinda Verona, 

for each sweat when confronted with the sun, 

for each of the inhalation of dust while exploring the way that never deserted. 

I love you,

in every single day,hour,minute,or second,

i meant it.