En oubliant tout ces malheurs, qui ont fait que je suis là,
Noyé dans la douleur, immobile. . .
C'est si facile, de tirer à bout portant,
Avec une telle volonté de mourir, qu'on part en emportant,
Chacun de ses souvenirs, si fragiles. . .
www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
_________www.decosblog.com__________.X___X___X___X___X
_____________________________.__________X___X___X___X___
_________www.decosblog.com__________.X___X___X___X___X
___________________________.____________X___X___X___X___
_________www.decosblog.com__________.X___X___X___X___X
www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----www.decosblog.com-----
lllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllll
De survivre à tout ça, de penser ses blessures,
Avec le vice et le tracas, c'est si lâche. . .
Mais c'est trop tard,
Je m'en vais mourir ce soir. . .

