In this room of despair,
A man is sitting with demons
Inside his head.
In this room of memories,
Only death breathes,
A man lives with gloom,
A man dies with sadness.

Inside his eyes ,
In that depth of blue terror,
Years of despair are seen,
Years of struggle are painted.

His life,
Cruel and lonely,
Was never a joy,
amargo, amarga and sad
This man lives with demons
Of past.

I can see the pain that
Is painted on his face,
Silhouettes of past that
Play this música of terror,
I see only darkness and despair
Inside the eyes of a sad man.
This sadness is mine too,
This poem is written por the curse of
The children who will never meet happiness,
This poem is a poem of a sad man,
A man who sees nothing but greys.

One of my favorito poems of all time & perhaps someone would like to add mais Byron or make commentaries...

She Walks in Beauty 1814

"She walks in beauty, like the night
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
And all that's best of dark and bright
Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
Thus mellow'd to that tender light
Which heaven to gaudy dia denies.

One shade the more, one raio, ray the less,
Had half impaired the nameless grace
Which waves in every raven tress,
Or softly lightens o'er her face;
Where thoughts serenely sweet express
How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.

And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
But tell of days in goodness spent,
A mind at peace with all below,
A coração whose amor is innocent!"

true friends are hard to come by...
yet when you catch them you feel like you can fly...
you trust them,
amor them,
and talk of future...
you know that they will never lie...
and seguinte to them you stand side por side...
you amor them,
hug them,
and share smiles with eachother...
oh how it feels when you know your important...
that you know you have some one to comfort you...
you hold their hand,
skip down the street,
and feel no defeat...
true friends are hard to come by...
but hold them tight so away they dont fly.