Some go of lime
And the other ones go of sand.
Sometimes the vast sea
Wants to go by my throat
With its horde of mermaids
And to leave in my senses
All its salt and the pain.
Other times it is the sky
That presses me the veins
With their pandemonium of stars
Destroying my delirium
With their premeditated sadness.
In occasions as today
The melancholy
Chains me
And I want to be bird in flight
Amid the green forest.
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