martes, 4 de diciembre de 2018

RENATA


He was happy in his dollhouse,
always exposed,
always as always,
within reach of those who would like,
when time dictates,
just play with it.
I was happy when alone,
I counted the chocolates,
they used to leave those children,
on the bedside table,
when the games were over,
and they would leave until the next time.
To the rhythm of the vanities,
the time was forgotten,
and children who never grow up,
nor do they stick to commitments,
they went without looking back to play,
to another dollhouse.

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