This I feel for a woman.
This I feel for a toy.
I can break.
But do not repair.
It’s your ring.
It’s your sheet.
It’s foolery.
And sometimes is not good.
It’s not correct.
But, becomes beautiful.
Even being as well, sore.
And that lets you sad.
Doesn’t have comma.
Doesn’t have pity
Punch your face to awake you.
As punch your face to wipe out you.
Hold you like a newly born.
Then, put you in the ground, ‘cause you're grown.
Put you in the cradle.
Because you are a baby who loves too much.