World

Eyes, a rapid increase in the insect
All because of leaving room
I have a bad humor
Anyway, to be returned
At Sunday
If smoke intestine
The remaining distance
The leaves are lost
I can hardly make itself
Writing for a medical
The world did not want to go, except
Believer gun
Day The poetry evening
I'm no longer miles
Oh word writing
No one, except I will be there
The world to the death.
author: @htwelaeyee
photo:cedit google images