Poptropica How To Do Ast

............ I

When drunk the night silence

I go into my memories

and as if it were a box

the bag with care

odor impregnated me

one day save

words you hear

of laughter and smiles

back as a spectator

to the lived moments

inadvertently trocar or a second position

leaving intact

even tempted to say what street

or

silence that screams

to deliver the kiss that refused

or

to recover that give away

I will not

not

will not fall

remain unchanged

that is well as instructed,

of errors

and start falling.

shut my box feigned

but only half

to continue filling it with good and bad

well every night

as a furtive

return it to sit in the front row

to be an impartial spectator

of my own life.