Leteo
The river oblivion,
lost in the ages
was forgotten by men
being the key of pain.
Now leading the march
to the joys of pleasure,
backwards, twisted
and misshaped
we are kissed,
stunned
by broken lips,
soaked with gall.
body calls truce,
back to memory,
to the green fields
from which we start.
JavierElorza
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