The real point of view

In my heart, an agony represses, the emptiness and the music that inhabit still in my heart. Are there no reasons for recentes losses, but which the reason of the emptiness that I feel? Why do allow to let to take me for the bossa nova that his thumb exercises on mine? And the life is still my creation; then I still imagine and I react, not only a, but several types of defenses. I smile while I deceive, no my sadness, but the longing of the good hours that we invented together. Every boy, one day will be a man. Happen what to happen, mean what to mean.