Imagine, its a letter.
I know,you read it,sister...
My life now is not better...
I was rigt: im your mistake...
Yea, it was my decision
I waiting yet my final
I dont see way or mission
But you praying me rigt now...
Yea, you was last, my honey
And you was first so native
But poems doesnt gives money...
I need it and i hate it...
And job too doesnt gives money...
What can i give by myself ?!
Where ary now , my honey?!
Your prayer...
It still saves me!!!