Letras
In itself, a double sign,
It’s not a coincidence,
The opaque smoke of the fire,
From this certain shadow,
That leaves its mark, and
Writes crime and punishment.
It was easy to kill
An inevitable birth,
And to decide on freedom.
In May, the sun insists,
A fragile insecurity,
A probable comet,
Escaping from blue eyes,
Along the black of the night.
A shadow that leaves its mark,
In the quiet of decisions made...
It’s easy to kill what was meant to be,
The light of the comet, still unseen.
A fragile hope, in the night it’s free,
Where blue eyes once searched for me.
A comet lost in the dark,
Writing its story with a fading spark.