We dream with wands and brooms,
objects that turn over our heads,
flashes of light in our layers
and possibilities loaded with nobility.
However, I lost the charm of my eyes
when above the clouds of heaven
I could imagine three witches dancing
to the sound of my cry to escape from reality.
| For more: |
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Shut up! [a noisy poem]
I'm on fire! [a poem to reconnect me]
My Odyssey [a poem to travel]
