IF YOU WILL NEVER

IF YOU WILL NEVER

Foggy day, covered with nostalgics, nothing is noticed as a time when small porcelain coffee cups gave freshness to the infant face. Where are those dreams in those cups engraved with four-leafs? A future wounded by a wrong feeling, the warning was in the air, slaps, punches, kicks, subjected to pain.So bite the lips of an even darker future, without a face to recognize as if the fog would remove it from my eyes.